


Private Sessions

by Charlatron, gaymingbinosaur, Jacklyn_Flynn, Kemvee, kittimau, thejeeperswife



Series: Private Sessions [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Andy the Mabari, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Casual Sex, Confident Cullen, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Smut, Cullenlingus (Dragon Age), Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Fluff, From Sex to Love, Happy Ending, Kinky Cullen Rutherford, Love Confessions, Mabari, Mabari Puppies, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, PWP - Personal Workout Porn, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexting, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Weddings, personal trainer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 68,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22869256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlatron/pseuds/Charlatron, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaymingbinosaur/pseuds/gaymingbinosaur, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacklyn_Flynn/pseuds/Jacklyn_Flynn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemvee/pseuds/Kemvee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittimau/pseuds/kittimau, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejeeperswife/pseuds/thejeeperswife
Summary: You’ve been going to the gym for a while now, but when a new instructor begins leading most of your classes, you get far more of a workout than you bargained for.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s), Cullen Rutherford/Reader
Series: Private Sessions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675336
Comments: 344
Kudos: 233





	1. Episode 1

_Cullen_...

You turn his name over in your mind for the tenth time. Chastising yourself for getting distracted again and trying instead to focus on the burn in your legs as he puts you, along with others, through your paces in the spin class.

His position as the Instructor demands your attention, yet even without you would struggle to look away from the golden man before you.

He looks incredible in those tight shorts clinging to the sculpted muscles of this thighs. His arms all bared and flexed as he holds onto the handlebars. His hair curling slightly from the sweat that builds on his brow and body, glistening and radiant in his exertions.

From the slight peek of his chest as he leans forward to sprint, you can see a dusting of hair and that causes a pained moan to escape your lips. Fortunately, it is masked by the noises of the class, the whirring of the bikes, your own ragged breaths… or so you think. The sudden snap of his eyes toward you leaves you breathless. The intensity of his smoldering gaze, amber and arousing, ensures that you remain in a lusty fog, drunk on your desire even after the music stops. 

After class you stumble into the wrong showers, catching a glimpse of his magnificently sculpted bubble butt. When he hears the gasp you couldn’t quite manage to hold in, he isn’t mad. Oh no. He turns fully and beckons you to him with a curl of his index finger, already hard and palming himself to the image of you bouncing and sweating before him not ten minutes ago.

The shower is hot - almost too hot, evident in the bright pink hue the water brings to your skin as he presses your back against the tile wall. He captures your mouth with his, and you feel his scar beneath your lips and the way he smirks as you grant his tongue access.

And that’s not the only thing you feel. Him, between your thighs, as you tremble and pant and moan against that wall, adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the exercise and now from the thrill of his urgent, hungry touch.

A gasp escapes your lips as that single finger follows the indents formed by your new muscles. He traces downward from your neck, taunting around your breast, flows down your abs, to finally the dip between your hip and groin.

You're trembling like you have a chill despite the hot steaming water blushing your skin when he leans forward and whispers, “You need extra personal attention.”

You bite back another startled moan when his hand grazes your thigh, bending your leg at the knee and bringing it to rest on his hip. His cock lies hot and heavy against your stomach, so long that he needs to tilt his pelvis considerably away from you to maneuver himself into position.

He stills, staring deep into your eyes, until the impatient tightening of your grip on his shoulders gives him the consent he needs. He holds your gaze, lips parting on a groan as he thrusts into you, each stroke languid yet exquisite.

You cry out; a pathetic, mewling sound, as he stretches you. A delicious sensation, filling and glorious and so fucking _hot_. His heat, and yours, becoming one, mingling with the rising steam as it fogs the room until all you can see, all you can feel, is the man in front of you, inside you.

The slick tile hits your back upon each thrust, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing around you alongside the grunts of his pleasure from the crook of your neck where he’s buried his face. His stubble is rough against your soft, smooth skin and you know it will leave marks but you don’t care. All that matters in this moment is his hands gripping the flesh of your ass, pressing you close, his cock buried deep within and the graze of his pelvis against your clit with every buck of his hips.

Your orgasm hits in a flash. Too quick. You aren’t ready for this to end. Your body feels like it is levitating as you arch your back off the tiles. You claw his shoulders. Your toes curl painfully. You have never seen so many stars.

Still, he continues to pound you. He keeps pawing your body. He grunts with each thrust, his muscles flex and continue to burn despite an exercise class and his unrelenting pace in and out of you.

You already feel yourself climbing higher again. He has already given you so much pleasure and still hasn’t found his own. You want to see him lose that tight, disciplined control inside you. That need rivals your own desire to explode again. You claw at his slick skin, pleading and whimpering for more, more, more. With a growl his hips begin to snap with abandon, penetrating your heat with brutal ferocity and unrivaled intensity.

The tightly wound coil of pleasure within you breaks like a crashing wave. As you moan and convulse around his cock you feel his length stiffen and swell within you. Groaning he crushes his lips to yours, silencing your screams as lightning strikes of ecstasy set your body aflame. And he holds you, up and open and pierced to the core while he fills you with his seed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This began on Tumblr, inspired by a post from Charlatron about a particularly hot Cullen-lookalike who happened to be her bike instructor. From there, it evolved into all of us writing a chain of reblogs adding snippets to the story. 
> 
> Now, it's a project for our new writing circle, what we are calling the Smut Coven.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> \- kittimau


	2. Episode 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxious about Cullen's reaction to seeing you in class again, you decide to opt for a different one this week. You're in for a surprise...

After what happened last week, you’re not sure if you should go back. He was a man of few words, albeit filthy words whispered in your ear, but he didn’t exactly show any interest in getting to know you after giving you two of the most intense orgasms of your life.

In the end, you skip spin in favor of a later boxercise class, except that in your hesitation to attend you arrive late and are the only odd number in a room full of pairs, meaning you have to buddy up with the instructor…who just so ends up being mister tall, blond and handsome.

The entire lesson is fraught with sexual tension, and you can only hope the other attendees don’t notice. When the class finally let’s out, you turn to him for help removing your gloves – which for some reason he’d fastened extra tight – but he holds up a finger asking for a minute. If they were your gloves you’d use your teeth, but since they’ve probably been worn by several other people today alone you’d rather keep them out of your mouth.

Finally, he turns to you and loosens them enough for you to slip them off. You walk towards the storeroom to put them away, and your heart skips a beat when you hear him lock the door after the last person leaves. 

Facing a pile of yoga mats as tall as your waist, you hear his footsteps approaching until he’s right behind you. You hold your breath as his warmth invades you, exhaling sharply when his hands grip your hips and he whispers in your ear “I’ve missed you.”

He squeezes your breast with one hand and you feebly protest when the other drifts to the raging inferno between your thighs, _shower_ being the only discernible word to leave your lips. But he says he doesn’t care, demonstrating his claim by laving his tongue through the salty sweat on your neck.

Your moan of approval is all he needs, swiftly dropping to his knees and peeling your leggings off with him.

He removes your panties too and you feel your thighs quiver as your skin is bared to the chilled room. The contrast of his hot hands causing you to gasp as he begins to explore your body with abandon. No concern for the near public setting or the sounds of the gym filtering through the thin door. The risk of discovery makes your heart beat faster, the lust coursing quickly through your veins and pooling in your core. His strength is evident as he works his way down your back, across your thighs and kneads at your ripe flesh. Hands, strong and calloused working you with firm strokes and alternating soft caresses.

With expert precision he tilts you forward, your hips hinging till your chest hits the mats before you and your cunt is exposed and presented for him. Gently, he coaxes your legs wider, he has barely even touched you and already you feel the wetness between your thighs. He presses his face between your parted legs and a shameful moan escapes your lips.

"I’ve been hoping I would get the chance to taste you," he murmurs breathily across your folds.

Only his strong grip pinning you in place prevents you from bucking wildly as he drags the flat of his tongue up the length of your slit. With agonizing slowness, he licks again, and again.

"P-Please. I, I need!"

"I know what you need, you insatiable woman," he speaks darkly and a shiver runs down your spine, a plaintive moan tearing from your lips as he returns to his torturous attentions.

It is such torment, the way he avoids the special spot you desire most as you tremble upon the mats. The ache within intense, exhilarating. Breasts squished flat in your tight sports bra, sweat-slicked stomach sticking to the plastic beneath you, you squirm under his attentions and grasp the edge to hold yourself in place. Each lick quickening the already-pounding beat of your heart, sending tendrils of pleasure straight from the points of contact to your brain.

He groans from his position between your thighs, his breath hot on your dripping folds, tongue darting out to collect the nectar and you keen, begging. You want to spread your legs further, but between the leggings around your knees and his body behind you, holding you, you are excruciatingly, blissfully trapped. His hand is rough against your ass, the stubble on his cheeks even more so as they scrape against your inner thighs, but none of it displeases you. No, quite the opposite. You crave more. More.

“Please!”

He chuckles, and you can feel the smirk stretching across his lips as he presses his face into your cunt. Flattening his tongue, he licks another broad stripe and just grazes the place you crave. Then, suddenly, his free hand is there, teasing at your entrance.

“You want more?” he growls in that delicious baritone.

“Yes, please, Maker, _yes_!”

Wasting no more time, he thrusts two long, thick fingers inside and flicks his tongue against your clit as a string of garbled curses and pleas erupt from your lips. Already, you can feel it building, this tension inside as your inner walls clamp down around him. Rocking your hips, you wonder, somewhere in the distance of your desire-fogged mind, what if someone hears you? But all sense and reason evaporate the instant his lips surround your clit, and he _sucks_. Fingers moving faster, taking you higher and higher and with a wail, you come.

You are a spent and shaking mess. Far more adrenaline and sweat than a normal workout could provide. You will absolutely thank your friend later for recommending this class. A selfish part of you hopes that she didn’t get this level of hands-on personal training.

The timber in his voice makes you shiver again. Or could it be the actual words? 

“I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot.” The wicked promise in his tone makes need shoot up your spine.

His iron grip around your waist lifts you. You don’t even have to worry about the skin-tight leggings binding your knees together because he can easily take all of your weight. He flips you and you’re sitting on the yoga mats. 

“I’m going to watch you this time. And more importantly...” He grins, sliding the leggings off of you completely and tossing them over his shoulder. “You’re going to watch yourself.” 

The mirrored wall is behind him, the one that lets the class assess their own posture and technique. You didn’t think the gym owners had this sort of personal review in mind when they installed it. 

You can’t help but look though. Your flushed cheeks, beautiful red spots on your hips where he’s gripped you tight. That incredibly tight ass that’s accentuated by his own skin-tight workout pants. 

He steps between your legs and you gasp slightly, brought back to the delicious reality. You don’t have to admire from afar anymore. He’s there and he wants you. His hands roam your sides, tease the side of your breasts as he leans in close. You can smell the musk of sweat on him and it is absolutely intoxicating. 

“I’ve seen you watching me. I can see it in your eyes. You want more than a lesson, don’t you?” He growls in your ear and his warm breath tickles the fine hairs. “More than my hands and mouth.” 

He’s stopped asking and you know it’s because he’s aware. You both know the truth. You want so much more, you want it all.

“Mmhmm,” Is all you can manage. You want to feel him too. You wrap one leg around him and pull him close so that you can feel the bulge in his pants. He’s so hard you’re sure he’s going to rip through the fabric. 

“Tell me, what do you want? _Specifically_.” It’s a command you cannot deny.

New fantasies you have only considered on dark lonely nights filter through your mind in such a precarious situation. You’ve had other lovers before, but none as handsome, fit, and _perfect_ as the Adonis between your thighs. All those fantasies you’ve dismissed as ‘never happening’ suddenly flow through your mind. Your back arches just _thinking_ about the orgasms you gave yourself living them alone on those dark nights. Now, _he_ can make them happen. Over and over again.

“Push me back…” You command. You feel the edge of the gym mats under your head. He lifts you just with one arm so your head hangs over the side. You feel upside down contrary to the actual. You are off the floor by a few feet with the mats stacked just so. 

You rest your hands on the edge so you are on display for yourself and the man waiting for your next command. Your nipples perk in the contrasting humid chilly air. There must be an AC unit nearby. You watch your rising chest, nervousness rumbling through you reflected back from the mirror. Meanwhile, this man wishing to please you studies your body, hungry impatient to gorge himself on you. Your nectar and first cries were not enough for him.

“Spread me. _Wide.”_ You take exercise classes for a reason. Suddenly, you want to take flexibility courses so you can be bent in all directions by this coach _everywhere_ and _anyway_. He can fuck you whenever you want and you will love every minute.

He follows your command. Your knees hook on his elbows, while he supports your behind right off the mats. He anticipates what your goal is. The angle is perfect for him to sink in fast and hard.

The chilly air brushes your cunt, still slick from his tongue and your explosion. The contrast spurs you on. You become bolder. You’re living your dreams.

Even though you were expecting it, the press of his engorged tip against your slit draws out a startled gasp, followed by a long low moan as he slowly spears you in his entirety. You clench your pelvic muscles and this time he’s the one who gasps, giving you an almost punishing thrust in recompense.

“Deeper.” You dare to demand. “And harder.”

You dare not lift your head to look him in the eye for fear of falling to self-consciousness, but can easily picture the delicious smirk tugging at his scarred lip as he follows your command, pulling you to him with each borderline-rough thrust resulting in a resounding slap of flesh and your high pitched wails.

His movements are slow, calculated, firm. The strength he exudes is exhilarating. He requested you share your specific desires, but it just feels so glutenous when he’s already giving you more than you could ever dream. But you don’t know if you’ll ever get another chance to be so bold, and with someone so capable, so you swallow your reservations and ask for the thing you’ve wanted most all week. “Kiss me.”

Without a moment's hesitation, he drops your legs and pulls you to him by a fistful of your low collar, sliding a hand around the back of your head as his lips take possession of you. You slide your own hands down his back to grasp his perfectly sculpted buttocks, applying a little encouraging pressure so that he resumes his previous pace.

His kiss is domineering and hungry and you return his passion with equal fervor. Your tongues twinning, dancing and the _taste_ of him is divine. Lips, salty from sweat but blended with a sweetness in his natural aroma. His scent is almost addictive as the fuel he is pouring on to your desires with each long, hard stroke.

You would moan from the taste of him but your cries are all for the hard rutting thrusts he makes as he fills you over and over. The hot stretch of your walls as his girth pierces and completes you is blinding in its intensity. The feeling of his sculpted ass as it flexes, buttocks hard as he rocks into your sex is exquisite and you spur him on with clawing grasps and mewls of delight.

"More" you demand and he breaks away from your body with a dark chuckle. 

"Insatiable" he praises as he rights himself to standing, your ankles now perched just over the broad expanse of his shoulders, your hips barely resting on the mats beneath you. 

He penetrates you roughly once more, the depth of the angle causing you to almost yelp from the sudden intrusion. It is chased away as his hand comes up to cup your face and startled you finally meet his eyes - golden amber orbs which burn with passion and concern.

"Are you okay?" The unexpected tenderness fills your heart with warmth and affection rises unbidden in your chest.

"Y-yes," you manage to stammer, and his affectionate smile twists into a seductive smirk.

"Good," he growls as he withdraws and slams back into your dripping cunt with a guttural groan of approval.

There is little room in your mind for anything else now, the intoxicating presence of the man inside and above you all-consuming and utterly exquisite. You’ve never been both so delightfully oblivious to your surroundings, yet totally and completely aware of every single sensation in your life! 

The taste of his lips still on your tongue, the feel of his golden, sweat-slicked skin against yours, his scent, musky and masculine, with the lingering hint of his unique cologne invading your senses as he plunders you over, and over, and over again. 

And suddenly he stops. You open your eyes and see him panting above you, a devilish glint in his amber eyes and a smirk on his perfect lips.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, brow furrowing with worry.

He tugs on your sports tank, pulling you up so that you are chest to chest.

“Off,” he commands.

There is no room for argument left in his tone. To punctuate his point, he removes his own shirt and throws it carelessly to the side. Seeing him now is just as exciting as the last time and you run your fingers through the finely dusted brown hair upon his Maker-sculpted chest almost in worship until he thrusts once, hard, snapping you back to reality.

“I. Said. Off.”

You flash a seductive smile of your own. “So demanding, Instructor.”

Peeling the soaked top from your skin, teasing and slow, you finally toss it to the floor. He growls his disapproval at the sight of your sports bra and snaps one strap – another, more urgent demand. He wants to see you – _all_ of you. The thrill that this man, this glorious man wants _you_ with such fervor and determination shoots through your body and you are positively _pulsating_ with lust.

Before you can even cry out, he’s yanked the garment up and over your head and his mouth is already on your skin, marking a trail down your décolletage until finally he captures one sensitive peak and laves it with his hot tongue. His cock is still hard and heavy within you as he rocks his pelvis forward again.

Gasping, you cry out his name. “Cullen!”

You can feel the mats beneath you, though they hardly serve a purpose anymore since he’s supporting you. Skin to skin now like you never knew you wanted. Needed. 

Your legs are folded against his side and you slide them around him a bit more, the heels of your feet perched on the swell of his ass. You can feel his muscles move as he pistons into you. With his mouth on your breasts, Maker that’s amazing, you can see yourself in the mirror far behind them. 

It’s like watching someone else. And it is so incredibly hot. A shock of pleasure runs through you and it isn’t until he growls and gives your nipple a love bite that you realize you reacted physically to the sight. It isn’t just the muscles of his hips that are moving. You can see the cords of iron rippling along his back. His shoulder blades are drawn together. You can actually see his knees shaking. 

This incredibly powerful man’s knees are shaking. You’re sure that you could make him fall, but not this time. You’re too close. And this, this is all too perfect. 

Your hand moves to his hair. It’s usually so well-tended, slicked back and straight. The sweat has turned the golden mass into chaotic curls. It’s the perfect length to grip in your fist. You do and he pulls away from your sensitive nipple. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes, you swear that they burn.

“Maker’s breath. You’re so fucking tight.” He growls and all of a sudden, you’re there. “Do you want me to come inside you again?” You get the idea that he isn’t really asking. You both know you want him to. You both know he will. But to hear him say it. 

“Yes!” You gasp as you grip his hair tightly, trying to hold back your release. Your other hand can’t help but score his back with blunt nails. He hisses and captures your mouth aggressively. His tongue thrusts between your lips as his hips thrust between your thighs. 

He breaks away from your mouth for just a moment. “Come for me.” He growls before consuming you again. And you do.

Maker, you do. 

He captures your cry, your scream, in his mouth. You hook your ankles behind his back and trust him to catch you when you fall. Your cunt spasms around him as the pleasure blooms from the pit of your stomach. It sings along your nerves, fireworks under your skin. You swear you can feel him swell and his pace increases frantically as he comes to his own release. 

His cry can’t and won’t be held back. He throws his head back and you’re sure everyone will hear you. But you don’t care. You can feel the hot jets of seed filling you, milked from the spasms of your own release. 

His head falls to your shoulder and you can feel his pants against your hot skin. You make eye contact with yourself in the mirror and you can’t seem to look away. Your cheeks are flushed and sweaty. Red scores down his back from your nails. You can see it a little now, what you think attracts him. You look good wearing him between your legs. 

He raises his head and smiles at you lazily. You can’t help but smile back. “I don’t normally do these, erm, one on one sessions with all my students.” You can still hear the rumble of pleasure from deep in his chest and his hips twitch when your cunt jerks around him again in response. “How would you feel about private lessons? Outside of the gym?” 

You don’t answer in words, but he definitely knows how you feel about it. 


	3. Episode 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to your favorite purveyor of sportswear ends in a rather surprising, though not at all unwelcome, encounter.

This was ridiculous. You had never preened for the gym before, all your clothes were skin-tight anyway but you couldn’t deny the appeal of having something a _little_ easier to remove in a hurry.

“ _Private lessons_ ” he had said, the braying knocks on the studio door breaking you apart before you could determine just quite what that meant. But it didn’t hurt to be prepared for all eventualities and so you were spending your day off shopping for some new activewear. Ideally with zips.

“Do you have any–”

Your heart stops.

_He’s here._

Chatting away affectionately with the very young and _very_ pretty shop attendant. Their easy smiles and exchanged laughter sting. He had said none of the other gym members got such personal attention but that didn’t mean…you curse your naivety. But before you can retreat unnoticed he raises his head at the interruption, his eyes betraying his surprise at your presence.

Humiliated, you turn heel. They are blocking the exit so you delve deeper into the enormous store. The changing rooms are in sight and you ignore his calls to wait.

Sighing in relief when you see they are empty you sit on the small stool to try and calm your racing heart and swirling emotions. Yet before you can do either you yelp as the curtain is roughly pulled back. 

"You can’t be in here!" you squeak, but he only shrugs.

His broad form blocks your escape, your pulse thundering as he appraises you like a predator and you little more than a trapped Fennec. "Why did you run away?" he asks curiously.

You do your best to feign nonchalance. "I didn’t run. I just didn’t want to intrude you and your… your, flirtations!"

He laughs and your body betrays itself as warmth fills your chest at the glorious sound. He’s always been so stern in your presence before now. "Rosalie is my sister" he says softly.

" _Oh_." Now you feel embarrassed. Whatever of your skin hadn't been flushed before is sure to be scarlet after his revelation.

"Were you jealous?" His tone now is teasing and all too familiar. It only serves to make you bite your lip and swallow down any answer you might have made. 

His gaze lingers on your lips for a second, two, three. Dragging out the silence and charging the atmosphere with thick tension. He tuts and turns away from you and you release the shaky breath that you had been holding. Then you jump as he slides the curtain shut again, looking over his shoulder at you with a dark look that is full of promise.

"Well then, I had better help you try on those clothes no?"

 _Is this really happening,_ you ask yourself. Inside a locked studio was one thing, even the sound of the shower provided some semblance of discretion, but here? Anybody within a few feet would be able to hear your panting breaths as he slowly peels your clothes from your body. You watch him in the mirror, standing behind you, solely focused on each new patch of flesh he unveils.

“You like to watch, don’t you?” You startle at the sound of his voice, deep and husky by your ear, snapping your eyes up to meet his. You didn’t know he was watching you, those intense amber eyes so very expressive. Once plagued by doubt, concerned that this dance of desire was purely recreational, you see in his reflection the face of a man who cares for more than just the physical pleasures you’d exchanged so far.

Eyes fixed on your reaction as he slips a hand between your thighs, his lust-laden voice whispers in your ear, “I’ve been able to focus on little beyond that tight little cunt of yours for days.” 

He presses a kiss to your neck, just below your ear, as his fingertips graze your clit. Your eyelids slide shut as a quiet gasp leaves your lips, so acutely aware that only a strip of fabric separates you from the other shoppers. He tuts in response, nibbling your earlobe before commanding you to _open._ When you squeeze your thighs together, protesting the too-intense feeling his fingers are delivering, he surprisingly obeys – though he isn’t nearly done. He laces his fingers between your own, lifts up your arms and guides your palms to the mirror.

“Don’t move.” His voice is gentle, a whisper, but a command no less.

You watch his reflection as he slowly caresses you, his palms roaming greedily over your body, abandoning you for a brief moment before his own pants fall to his ankles. Then you feel it, the press of that magnificent cock of his sliding between your folds. He rocks his hips just enough to coat himself in your potent arousal, before pressing a hand to the small of your back encouraging you to arch your spine, then pushes just the very tip of himself inside.

He slides his palms up your back towards your shoulders, following the path down your arms and bringing them to rest on the backs of your hands, before snapping his hips towards you, burying himself entirely.

Cullen soon abandons one of your hands to seek out the pearl above your joining, his clever fingers coaxing a rather embarrassingly quick orgasm from you. You bite your lip as you begin to crest, though it isn’t enough to stop the cry that tears from your throat. His other hand is over your mouth in an instant, trying desperately to contain your pathetic mewls as his talented fingers and delicious cock continue to stimulate you throughout your release.

"Too soon," you whine as you tremble through your orgasm. 

You’re in a public place. Anyone can hear or see you both. His own sister works here! Yet, the thrill of it is utterly enticing. You want more! As the fog lifts, you adjust your stance, face flush, and sweating, and prepare yourself for whatever else he has planned.

Again, you climb, but the teasing, sexy man slows just enough to be infuriating. You recognize now just _seeing_ him spiked your arousal. Even your brief thoughts of jealousy and betrayal did nothing to simmer the flames. Oh, it is not just him who had been pondering your rendezvous in the last few days. Now, with him home in your cunt, you feel the flooding effect this man has on your whole body. You feel full— _complete_ —surrounding that thick, long cock.

You expect him to go fast like your first orgasm, but each thrust is slow and calculated. His fingers work your pearl at the same grueling pace. Isn’t he concerned about the people meandering outside the curtain? While yes, going fast and hard will make too much sound, but your slick heat begs for that same primal fucking you two shared the last few times.

Each gasp, your mouth opens. His rough fingers roam over your mouth and lips. He growls, just that sound igniting your clit again. You want to add your own frustration to this slow pace, so you wet your tongue and lick your lips. He growls, his thrusts getting harder. He watches you moistening your lips. His cock caresses over your inner bundle of nerves. You exhale with a slight cry. You hear someone shifting in the stall beside you. The person drops a hanger and curses under their breath. Your eyes widen, but he does not stop. You can tell he heard it too, but he does not care.

One finger falls from your lips and inside your mouth. You instantly start sucking it hard, teeth nipping. Cullen grunts, teeth grinding. His thrusts intensify. Turnabout is fair play. And suddenly it comes to you. You know how to get him back. You know how to get him to struggle with silence. You’re already so close again, but you know that this is far from over. You get the idea that he is never going to be satisfied with just giving you one release. Maker bless this man and his dedication. 

You release his finger with a _"_ _pop_ " and meet his eyes in the mirror, whispering as loud as you dare, “Stop.”

He does, just like you knew that he would. You see the confusion on his face, the slight frown. He’s even gorgeous when he’s disappointed. You smile at him though and he must see the glint in your eyes because the lust and excitement rush back to his face with a smile.

Standing, you bite your lip to hide the whimper at the emptiness when he leaves you. You turn to face him and you can tell he knows what you’re thinking. His eyes never leave yours as you lower yourself to your knees. His look is molten lust and almost possessive. _Hot_. 

His cock stands proud in front of you, glistening with your own slick. Some of it is his you realize, a bead of white forming at the very tip of his cock. Your tongue snakes out and captures it. This perhaps isn’t the best moment to explore, but you’re going to anyway. You’re going to make him struggle to keep quiet.

Lifting his cock, you run your tongue from the base to the tip. As you do you look up at him, find him watching you intently. You realize with no small amount of satisfaction that he’d been holding his breath. The moment you meet his eyes, as your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, he lets it out in a sharp groan. 

The shuffling in the stall beside you stills for a moment, but you don’t. Cullen reaches out to brace himself against the wall. You wrap your hand around him and Maker he is hard. You pump slowly and he thrusts into your hand ever so slightly. The shuffling next door resumes. 

“Do you like how you taste?” he askes in a low rumble.

You can’t answer. Your mouth is stuffed full of his cock as you take him further into your throat. Instead, you hum in agreement and the vibrations shoot along his shaft. A restrained moan escapes him.

You more than like it. _You love it_.

The taste of you both on your tongue, the power you have over this incredible man as he battles to control the bucking of his hips as you work him higher with your hand and mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, you suck the tip before inching back down along his length, a little further each time.

The incredible release he's given you in these hurried exchanges has emboldened you in mind _and_ body. Steadying your breath, you relax your throat and surge forward. He quietly moans again as his cock is fully encompassed in your hot wet mouth, and you take him so deeply his dark curls tickle your nose. He begins rocking gently towards your face, never crowding or pushing, giving you time to breathe but then with an encouraging hand on your head guiding you back down his erection.

He hisses when you take him again, still too aware of the dangerously close proximity of the other shoppers. His shallow thrusts become harder and deeper.

"Maker’s Breath!" he whispers brokenly as your other hand comes up to gently caress his balls. You feel them tighten instantly and know he is close… too close.

With smug satisfaction, you release him, denying his climax. He growls in frustration and you glance up to see molten eyes burning above you, almost black with lust and need.

You can’t hold back a squeal as he lifts you off your knees to kiss you, and moan as his tongue moves past your lips. At this point, you no longer care about the people outside as his fingers roam your body. He grabs your ass and picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as you continue to wrap his tongue around yours and run your fingers through his hair. He sits down on the bench in front of the mirror with you on his lap, and it doesn’t take long for you to realize what he wants. 

Shamelessly, you rub your cunt against him, wanting to drive him mad with lust, and it just feels so damn good! But Cullen’s patience is gone after you used your mouth on him. He grabs you with one hand, the other positioning himself, and pushes you down on his cock. 

You bite down on his shoulder as you try to stop the scream threatening to rip from your throat. Your hips move on instinct even as you try to get used to the feel of his cock filling you. Grasping his shoulder, you pull yourself up and drop back down. You try to keep the pace slow as you enjoy the feel of his dick dragging against your inner walls, but Cullen is having none of it as he grabs onto your ass once again and starts to push his hips up, meeting you thrust for thrust. 

He wants hard and fast now, and you give it to him. Your nails dig into his shoulder as you impale yourself on his cock, and the moans that he can no longer suppress drive you to fuck him faster. Tension climbing, climax building, you come yet again with a cry. You're oblivious to your surroundings as his cock continues to move inside you, extending your pleasure as long as possible.

Cullen slows his thrusts as you come down. “You’re beautiful like this,” he whispers, rough hands palming your naked breasts. Your heavy lids fly open, the haze of your release clearing immediately. His amber eyes are full of lust, but… there is something softer there, now. Awe. Admiration.

“What?” You exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Cheeks flushed, hair a mess, smiling and content.” A wicked grin stretches across his perfect lips just before he sits up, bringing you flush with his still-clothed chest, and he growls into your ear, low and deep, “I love the way you look when I fuck you.”

 _Fuck_ , you think. _This man. That **voice**_.

A shiver runs down your spine and your pussy clenches around him. He groans, snapping you back to reality. And right then, you know what you want to do. You’re going to give him the ride of his life. You’re going to make damn sure he keeps coming back for more.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper against his ear, “You feel so good inside me, _Cullen_.” Capturing his lobe between your teeth, you roll your hips against him and relish the agonized groan that erupts from his lips. And even the sound of curtain rings sliding across metal in the stall nearby, footsteps shuffling quickly away, the gasp of a stranger as they flee, cannot convince you to stop now.

His hands grasp for purchase on your hips and he bucks impatiently against you. But no – it’s your turn to be in control this time. Confusion flashes across his face when you push him away, forcing his back against the mirror. Your eyes drift to meet themselves in your reflection behind him and you see what he means about the unique beauty that comes with pleasure. Lips swollen and red from his rough kisses, cheeks tinged pink, hair loose and wild, framing your face.

You smirk at your own reflection, emboldened even further, and look back to the man beneath you. Steadying yourself with hands on each of his shoulders, you lift almost completely off him and drop down again. One time. Then two. Finding your rhythm, you pick up the pace, ignoring the slick wet slap of your joining flesh as it resonates through the changing room and beyond the curtain.

He’s breathing fast now, chest rising and falling heavily as you bounce on his lap. “You like this, Cullen? Like it when I ride you?” you whisper huskily. His cock twitches inside you, and you know he’s close. You tighten around him, pulsing in time with each bounce until he’s nearly panting and desperate.

“Yes… _Fuuuck_ , woman,” he gasps. “Say… it… again. Say… my name.”

“Cullen,” you say, riding him harder and faster. “Come inside me. I want you - I need you, Cullen!”

And he does. He comes with a satisfying groan, his hot seed filling your cunt and you collapse against him, both of you breathing hard and slick with sweat.

“Sweet Maker, woman. You are…” he hums contentedly. “You are intoxicating, you know that?”

You giggle, exhausted but happy, and slowly rise. The evidence of your joining drips down your thigh and you look down at your clothes piled on the floor, realizing there’s nothing to clean yourself with. _Well, shit._

Glancing back to him, you catch his eye and the both of you burst into laughter. This time, there’s no attempt at muffling the sound or hiding. What’s done is done.

“I need to, uh…” You wave a hand over the apex of your thighs, and his eyes widen with realization.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” A faint blush stains his cheeks and he awkwardly fumbles for the pants hanging low around his ankles. After a moment, he removes a hand from one of the pockets and shoves a handkerchief toward you. “Here.”

Arching one eyebrow at the fact that he actually walks around with a handkerchief, you gratefully, but amusedly, accept. Once you’ve both cleaned yourselves and dressed, he gives you one last passionate kiss, and pulls back the curtain.

On the other side, not six feet away, stands a gaggle of blushing, grinning women who all turn away and feign interest in the clothing racks beside them as if they hadn’t been eavesdropping the entire time. You slide past him, the heat of embarrassment flooding your cheeks, and hustle through the store toward the exit with Cullen hot on your heels.

Until someone steps in front of you. Rosalie.

“Cullen,” she says with a smirk. “And who is this?”

“Ah… this is, um…”

Her eyes dart back and forth between you and you realize – she knows. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You must have been louder than you thought! He clears his throat, shifting on his feet beside you.

“This is my girlfriend. I mean, uh –” He glances at you, noticing the shock on your face, and his hand shoots up to rub the back of his neck. “My friend. Who is a girl. A woman. _Maker’s breath_ …”


	4. Episode 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before your evening spin class, Cullen gives you a surprise gift.

_He called you his girlfriend…_

You’d replayed the memory almost a thousand times since he’d said it. You remember it so clearly; the smell of rubber soles, the crappy music on the stores own radio channel, the way your heart stopped beating at the look of self-conscious uncertainty in his bright amber eyes. You’d never experienced such a rapid shift of emotions: shock that he would even consider saying such a thing, elation at the thought of this man wanting you and only you and then bitter disappointment when he almost immediately corrected himself and called you his _friend_.

Sadly, you didn’t have time to discuss things further in the store – not that you’d wanted to stick around, what with the knowing smirk his sister gave you. You wanted to ask him where this _thing_ was going, but the perfect opportunity had yet to present itself. Perhaps if you ran into him today, you could finally talk. Or at least arrange an actual date where you might try to get to know each other beyond the physical.

With your attention decisively occupied as you head towards your evening spin class, you don’t notice him sneak up on you.

“There you are,” he says with an unfairly handsome smile that makes you melt. “I’m glad I caught you. I, uh, bought you something.”

“You…bought me a gift?” you question in quiet disbelief before he hands you a nondescript brown paper bag.

“Not here,” he urges when you peek inside, nervously rubbing the back of his neck and inadvertently drawing your attention to his bulging bicep. “Go put it on before class.”

You watch his back as he strides away, tilting your head to one side, absentmindedly ogling his perfect ass. Once he’s disappeared around the corner, you give in to your curiosity and make your way to the nearest restroom. You lock the cubicle door, lower the toilet lid and take a seat before reaching into the bag and pulling out a small brown box.

“ _Mantric rechargeable remote control knicker vibrator_ ” you read, eyes widening with each new word. The first thing you notice is that the aforementioned remote control is suspiciously absent. _Where might that be?_ You knowingly wonder, certain in your assumption that it currently lies somewhere within a certain blonde Adonis’sreach.

Did he actually mean for you to wear this during spin class! It’s blatantly obvious what’s going to happen, but can you really see yourself sliding into third base in a room full of people? Then again, you never thought you’d have semi-public sex with a man you barely knew, and you’ve done that a bunch since meeting Mister Intense… so why the heck not?

You arrive for class just in time, the pretty little pink device nestled securely between your labia, though the only bike left is one directly in his line of sight just a couple of rows from the front. He glances at you as you walk toward it and you give him a discreet thumbs up that says _yes, I’m wearing it._

“ _Ahh_ -hi!” You manage to save yourself from complete embarrassment, turning your startled cry into a greeting directed at no one in particular when the device in your pants begins to gently pulse – more surprising than arousing. You thought he’d at least wait until you were on the damn bike. _Little shit_. And then it comes to you: this is revenge for your teasing in the sportswear changing room. You gulp as you take your seat, just now realizing how much of a ride you’re truly in for, clenching your teeth as the vibrations suddenly double in speed. 

You can hardly concentrate on his instructions, and find yourself falling behind. Everyone else is going faster and it’s all you can do to maintain. Looking up at him, you find a wicked grin on his face meant just for you. You grind against the bike seat, though you aren’t sure if you want it to sit more securely against your clit or move off of it. 

He feigns going for his water bottle and you feel the vibrations lessen. Thank the Maker. Your head falls and you pant, though not from exertion. The class is on an easy ride, taking a break before another burst. 

You don’t get a break, however. Not really. The toy nestled between your now slick lips ratchets back up again. Biting your lip, your eyes snap to his. He’s watching you intently. You glance down for a moment and can see him hard in his pants. He’ll definitely be closing and excusing the class from his bike. 

You start to think about all the wonderful things you’re going to do with that rock hard cock when the class is over. Start to. Once again you’re furiously working your legs. And once again the toy starts to furiously vibrate. How high does this thing go! 

A moan slips out of your mouth, but you don’t notice it until the person next to you looks over questioningly. “Sorry,” you murmur. “That calf burn, huh?”

You try to sound light and joking, but your voice shakes. He isn’t getting you back, he’s punishing you. You choke back another moan as the vibrations change from steady to pulsing.

_So close._

You bite your lip to stifle the pitiful whimper that escapes you as the final set of the class approaches. Cullen nonchalantly gives out instructions as if he had not been studying you intently during your torment. Only the outline of his solid erection and wide, dilated pupils indicate that he is just as affected by this little game as you.

You muffle a moan when he takes a drink of water, watching his Adam's apple bobbing greedily. A few droplets drip down his chin. _Maybe not quite_ as _affected_ you think, eyes chasing the glistening path down his neck and over the ridge of his collarbones before they are lost where his bulging pectorals meet his baggy sleeveless muscle shirt. And you’re suddenly so very, very thirsty. Yet the slug of water you drink for yourself cannot quench the desire you have. You want to lick every last bead of water and sweat from Cullen’s skin. But first, you are going to kill him.

The session picks up again, the thrum of the music fast and keeping a tempo with the throbbing in your clit and rapid beating of your heart. It’s a cruel staccato, pushing you nearer and nearer to your peak. Surely you can’t - not in front of all these people! But the sensations are intoxicating, so you surrender yourself to the hedonistic rising tide of ecstasy that burns within you.

The vibrator shifts in your panties, just inching away from where you need it and a fierce growl emanates from your throat, surprising yourself. Cullen notices your discomfort, sees how you writhe on your seat as subtly as possible to press the small buzzing token back towards that sweet spot.

You lean forward on your bike, and the lightning strikes of pleasure are back. _Yes!_ You are nearly at your crescendo. To the rest of the class, it looks as if you are just preparing for the final sprint, they might think you are a little odd but there are enough grunts and pants alongside the thumping music to mask your approaching climax.

But you don’t fool him.

You bite your tongue to muffle a shriek as the vibrations are cut off. He knows, he _knows_ he has just denied you and gives a dark smirk that torments and tantalizes you in equal measure.

“That will be all for today,” he calls in that infuriatingly delicious baritone. “I’ll see you all back here next weekend!”

You scowl at the confident grin on Cullen’s handsome face as he dismisses the class and takes another swig of water. _The smug arse!_ Your pussy clenches, aching and hollow, clit still throbbing against the now-still toy.

Your only consolation is the fact that he has yet to climb off his bike – he’s aroused, and while no one else seems to notice, you definitely do. It’s been the primary direction of your gaze throughout the class and fuel for the lewd thoughts flooding your mind while the small vibrator brought you so close to climax. A climax that you are now ravenous, almost desperate to achieve.

Glancing once more at the line of his hard cock within the spandex pants, a smirk graces your lips. Sure, he did this to tease you. But knowing he wants you as badly as you want him is empowering. You can tease right back.

You climb slowly, carefully off your bike and head toward the door, noting the disappointment flicker across his face. Pride blooms within your chest and you add a little extra sway to your hips, falling behind the others so that you are the last one out the door. Just before leaving, you stop. Look back over your shoulder with an easy flick of your hair, lick your lips, and close and lock the door.

Prowling toward him as he dismounts, your mind works overtime to formulate a suitable form of punishment. But when he flashes that smug grin that seems to suggest he has you right where he wants you, you lose your cool.

You reach into your pants to fish out the infuriating device, which he’d apparently switched back on when he thought you were leaving, and launch it at his chest. His reaction, of course, is to laugh, which only heightens your fury. Your stalking gait becomes a charge before you _leap._ The impact barely registers against his seemingly immovable stance as he easily catches you.

“Lay down,” you manage to command. He instantly obeys, somehow managing it with you still in his arms.

His hand slides beneath your loose sports top, along your sweat-slicked back, fusing you to him as he attempts to pull you in for a kiss, but you resist. With both palms pressed to his chest, you push him back until he’s lying flat on the floor.

You stand and shuck off your shoes before bending over, dragging your leggings down, and tossing them over the handlebars of his bike. Just when you’re about to lower yourself on to him, that smirk appears again and you immediately get an idea. He likes to see your face when you do this… so why not tease by denying him.

After turning around, you make a show of squatting over Cullen so he can see every little bit of you before you decisively straddle his waist. You push his shorts down his thighs, again making a show of bending, your cunt just inches from his face. Now unhindered by clothing, you grasp his magnificent cock and scoot down his body. You undulate along the length of it slowly, teasingly. Waiting for the desperate bite of his fingers digging into your hips to fully impale yourself.

You intend to slide down slowly, but you’ve apparently teased him into a wild beast. He thrusts upwards sharply and his grip on your hips forces you down to meet him. He growls as you cry out, snapping his hips again to fill you in a rush.

But this will not do. You need to regain the upper hand. Spotting the clitoral stimulator you chucked at him right by his shin, still vibrating away, you lean forward quickly to snatch it up before he notices. The room is silent save for the embarrassingly wet sounds of your joining as you ride him for a while longer, glancing over your shoulder to see his handsome face staring up at you. He still has some way to go.

You press the toy to your clit, moaning because you are _so_ much more aroused with his cock buried deep inside you than you had been on the bike. He groans behind you, feeling the vibrations against the base of him as you move it up and down ever so slightly. It doesn’t take long to rediscover the orgasm you so recently lost. Tossing your head back, your mouth opens on a silent scream. The toy falls away as the force of your climax causes your once proficient grinding to desynchronize before it halts completely.

Cullen growls, tightening his grip on your hips in an attempt to guide your movements. You don’t even need to look at him to know he’s close. You can tell from the desperate sounds he’s making that it won’t take much to finish him off. But fair is fair, and you owe him a lesson of your own in _coitus interruptus_. You soldier through the haze of post-coital bliss, allowing him to push you up and down his hard, throbbing cock a couple more times. And then abruptly, you rise. His cock slips free, something akin to a whine erupting from his throat just before you stand and walk away.

But you aren’t really _that_ cruel. You let him think you’re simply retrieving your discarded leggings before glancing over your shoulder with a suggestive smirk. He looks _so_ disappointed, bless him. And despite him being denied so close to completion, you know there is zero chance of him being forceful – Cullen has always been respectful of your consent.

You brace yourself on the handlebars of his bike and adopt a wide stance, then beckon him with a tilt of your head. He leaps to his feet and eagerly strides towards you, kissing and nibbling the back of your neck as he impales you once more. As you’d predicted; he was already extremely close. After a few more powerful thrusts, he drives himself deep and comes, shouting your name.

Your head falls back on his shoulder as he kisses your sweat-slicked skin. His scarred lips follow your shoulder, up to the crook in your neck. He slides the loose moist hair away from your neck as the affectionate trail reaches behind your ear. You moan deeply, the sensitivity still there from your trying spin class. You feel his smirk and rough whiskers from his five o’clock shadow.

“I want to see you again,” Cullen whispers into the shell of your ear. “Outside of the gym.” His fingers slide up and down your slit, eliciting a moan from your lips. No one has ever made you feel like this before.

“The sports shop wasn’t enough?” you tease, shooting him a grin over your shoulder.

Your already racing pulse quickens at his proposal. You can’t forget how he called you his girlfriend, nor the sting that lingered when he amended the statement. But still, hope remains. Is this just a fling? Or could it be more?

He shifts away, his softened cock slipping free. You right yourself and turn to face him.

“I can’t get enough of you. You plague my thoughts.” He lifts your chin with gentle fingers. There’s a bashful expression on his chiseled features you’ve never seen before, his cheeks flushed and amber eyes pleading. “May I um… have your number?”

“We skipped that step, huh?” You giggle and nod, arms encircling his waist, but then your brow scrunches. “Isn’t it on my membership form?”

His mouth opens, then shuts, and he awkwardly rubs his neck. “I - I thought of that, but…” He studies your expression carefully. “…it is only right to ask you properly.”

Despite all of his confidence and prowess when you have sex, in situations like this, it seems he is a true gentleman. A rare breed in this world. Just when you thought he couldn’t be more _perfect_.

You smile and stand on the tips of your toes to kiss him once, tenderly. “Of course. Let’s, um, clean up first, perhaps?”

With a chuckle, he hands you a towel to wipe yourself clean. Once clothed again, you reach into your accompanying purse for your phone. He waits for you to recite the number, his thumb rushing to add you as a phone contact. 

“I’ll text you mine,” he says as he walks you to the gym door. He unlocks it and holds it open for you. “One last thing-“ Cullen grins and drops the bright pink vibrator into your purse. “It is a gift, after all.” 

_That cheeky bastard_. He wiggles his keys, showing you the remote on his keyring. You laugh and kiss him one last time before walking to your car. As soon as you’ve unlocked the door, your phone vibrates in your hand. You glance at the screen – it’s a new number with a text.

_**I’ll be thinking of you.**_

Your purse rattles right after, the buzz of the sex toy rhythmic, like Morse code. A special message, just for you. Your eyes flash to the gym door, but he’s gone. Body trembling as you think about the possibilities, your mouth breaks into a happy grin. 

You can’t help but wonder… how far does the remote’s signal reach?


	5. Episode 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days of silence and a chance encounter prompt you to send a teasing message.

Body aches occur every time you stretch and move, even after a few days. The last _invigorating_ cycling class has stayed with you; clitoral torture included. Yes, muscles you never knew existed burn, but they remind you every morning of your fine exercise instructor just like that buzzing device waiting in your purse.

Those delightful memories sustain you through the hectic work week as you watch each hour crawl a little closer to the next workout session. Yet your phone never sounds.

_**I’ll be thinking of you.**_

You grimace slightly upon entering the coffee shop. If he thinks of you, why not text or call? Cullen said he wants to see you outside of the gym, but then nothing for three days. He’d better not ghost you, or you know _exactly_ where to shove that vibrator.

Still, hope blooms inside your heart…

Your nether regions still burn after your latest waxing appointment. With each step toward the counter, you feel the smooth skin rub together just so. You want to look nice for him for whatever workout or date that might occur soon. Maybe this weekend?

As you’re giving your order to the elven barista behind the counter, you debate going back to the office and eating or actually taking the extended lunch break you deserve. You still haven’t made up your mind when a howl of masculine laughter rolls behind you. With a peek over your shoulder you notice four handsome men sitting in a corner table by the window, talking over their meals. One man, in _particular_ ,stands out.

Cullen is _here!_

He sits with friends, their voices ringing throughout the cafe. His iconic, Fereldan-accented baritone calls to you like always. Just seeing his scarred lips curving into a smile, the sharp angle of his stubble-covered jaw moving as he laughs, makes your body tremble. He and his mates all have similar athletic builds and nail-clawing, raw sex appeal. You bite your lower lip. What does Thedas have in its water to produce so much gorgeous _manliness?!_

Another server approaches their table, her pretty face beaming at each of the gorgeous gentleman. She flirts with them all, but her eyes stay on Cullen a little longer than the others. You are more than pleased to see he does not respond to the teasing. Just awkward smiles and dismissiveness. Oh, that is definitely not his sister – there’s no resemblance whatsoever. And he wants nothing she offers. Your grin widens.

“Miss?”

You jump and twirl back around to find the barista still awaiting your decision. “I’ll eat in,” you say, pointing to a nearby table positioned for a perfect view of your beau and his friends. 

_This will be fun_ , you scheme, reading the women’s restroom sign. Once you’ve paid the barista, you walk with purpose towards the restroom, a little twinkle in your eye as you take one last look at your intended victim. Each step you take reminds you of that recent smooth treat.

The restroom is blessedly empty, thank goodness. You might have chickened out if you’d had to wait. Hand shaking as you lock the door, you take a steadying breath to calm yourself. You rummage through your bag for your phone, then pull down your panties and hike up your skirt.

It’s more difficult than you’d anticipated, not only getting the right angle but also finding the right exposure so that it doesn’t look – well quite scary, actually. Do you go demure with just the lips, cheeky with a peek at your clit, or full throttle with a view of your arsehole?

Eventually, you decide on the perfect pose, and parting your silky smooth lips slightly with your fingers, take the snap. You wait until you’re seated at your table before sending it to him so that you can discreetly watch for his reaction. It may also be a good test of character: will he show it to his friends? Maker, you hope not.

You jump when a waitress places your order in front of you, shiftily hiding your phone even though the picture isn’t on the screen. You watch him and his extremely handsome friends for a minute or two, all of them sculpted to perfection – though none so yummy as Cullen.

An unmistakably Starkhaven brogue suddenly cuts through the laughter to ask, “You ever going tae tell us about the lass responsible for that glaikit grin on your face?”

Could he be talking about you? You feel a bit like you’re crossing a line eavesdropping like this, but you’re still tempted to see his reaction. You bring up his last (his only) text message, attach your picture, and hit reply. Sure enough, Cullen reaches into his pocket, grinning like a fool when he sees it’s from you, then covers his mouth with his hand. It isn’t shock you see, though; its hunger. He’s _salivating._

When you find he makes no move to show his friends, you’re beyond thrilled. You’re about to send another text, to let him know you’re there, but then he excuses himself and heads to the restroom… the phone still in hand. You play with your food, anxiously awaiting his return so you can continue the little game you’ve started. You don’t want to miss one reaction.

It doesn’t take long for him to come out, swaggering to his chair, looking immensely pleased with himself. He quickly types something on his phone before diverting his attention once more to his friends, still teasing him about this mystery girl. Your phone buzzes on the table, and, with a start, you find him looking directly at you.

He knows you’re here.

With a swipe of one finger across the screen, your phone reveals a new message. A picture of Cullen’s hard cock against the backdrop of an all-too-familiar tile floor. It looks just as amazing, and delicious, as you remember. Long and thick, standing proud from the dark curls at its base. No wonder he looks so smug. All you can think is how much you wish you could touch it, right here and now.

The muscles of your cunt clench when you take one more peek at the picture, the familiar need to be filled returning in force. Looking up, you see he’s wearing the same infuriatingly handsome smirk he had while he tortured and teased you only days ago with the little pink vibrator currently in your purse. The smirk that fills you with longing, desire, and so much more.

Cullen thinks he’s won. He may have won the battle, but now, you are more determined than ever to win the war. And the fun has just begun, after all; why just send a naughty picture, when you can tease him with more!

Unfortunately, when it finally comes time to compose your message, your mind blanks. You think of so many wonderful things to do to him, with him, for him… but how do you put them into words? 

You can feel his eyes raking over you again. He’s going to give you away to his friends if he stares _too_ much. The warmth that’s blooming in your chest makes it hard for you to care. Do you want to stay hidden? 

You look up from the phone and the blinking cursor that mocks your lack of creativity. So much of your relationship has been revenge and punishment and furiously satisfying sex. Not that there is anything wrong with that, your aching cunt reminds you. But when you meet his eyes this time you think you might see something other than lust and desire. 

Adoration. Reverence. Affection.

The last one you identify makes your heart pound in your chest. You don’t realize you’re biting your lip until you see him exhale sharply. Chuckling, you think, _yes_ \- lust and desire are still there as well. 

Suddenly, you know exactly what you want to say. You look down at your phone, thumbs moving with the practiced grace of your generation, and send the next text.

 _Just wanted to make sure you were still thinking about me._ 😘

With another brief glance, you see that in the time it took to compose the message, he’s gone back to talking with his friends. If only you could see under his table…

You try to concentrate on your food and not the childish desire inside of you for him to respond immediately. He was out with his friends when you interrupted him. Your fork clatters to your plate when the phone unexpectedly buzzes with his expedient reply. You pick it up immediately and the message preview makes your heart soar. 

_**Clearly I was, and I…** _

You swipe the message quickly to read the rest. 

_**Clearly I was, and I was hoping you were thinking of me too. I can see you were. So smooth and wet. Maker, I’ve missed your beautiful cunt.** _

Beautiful? You blush. Both because of his sweet and incredibly arousing words, and because you realize that the entire time you were waiting for him to reach out, you could have too. You’ll make up for that…

 _I’m_ so _wet. Soaked and ready for you. You can’t imagine how often I’ve brought myself to completion while waiting by my phone, thinking of you._

You’d already sent him a nude so this felt tame by comparison, but there was still an element of the illicit about typing such words in public. Cullen shifts uncomfortably in his seat and it feels so good to have triggered such a physical reaction in him. He types a quick reply, keeping his phone below the table. _Ever the gentleman,_ you think warmly.

_**You utter minx… tell me more.** _

His response is concise, not surprising considering he is with company, but he is definitely eager. You are more than happy to answer his request in great detail.

_I’ve been thinking about how empty I feel without your thick cock to fill me. My fingers just aren’t the same. I’ve been clutching the present you gave me and praying that you would turn it on. Anything to remind me of our last session._

There is a hot, bright blush on his cheeks now and you see him swallow as he punches another quick reply.

_**And what would you do if you had me to yourself now?** _

_There would be no hesitation. I would bend over and beg you to mount me like a stallion. You fuck with such ferocity and I want nothing more than to writhe beneath you, while you take your pleasure and I mine._

His mates try to draw him into the conversation, but you can see how tightly wound he is, giving short answers and trying to read then re-read your latest message without drawing too much attention.

_**You take me so well, you dirty girl. I love how tight your cunt is.** _

With an arched brow, you smirk at his lustful response. Maybe just a little bit of cruelty is in order.

 _Speaking of stallions… That is a rather handsome group of friends you have._ 😋

It is a jest of course. You are not one for sharing, and you hope he feels the same. But you hit send and try to focus on your coffee instead, keenly aware of just how damp your underwear was beginning to feel from this verbal seduction. _Exclusive, committed_. Words you would love to apply to your new relationship if that’s what this was. But you didn’t want to push too hard or too fast, fearful of scaring him away if he didn’t have the same budding hopes as you.

The loud scraping of a chair draws your attention back across the room.

“Cullen – mate, are you alright?” one of his friends asks with quiet concern at the suddenness of his movement.

You wilt in your seat at his imperious glare as he stalks in your direction. Anxious, you drop your eyes from his approach, wondering _have I gone too far?_ Only to throw them wide open as his lips are suddenly pressed to yours.

You squeak, alarmed for a millisecond. Then, with a tentative lick of his tongue, you surrender. Slipping your eyes closed and parting your lips as you take in his passion, the taste of the cream from his coffee and the manly scent that lights up your senses.

He is kissing you, here! In full view of his friends, the other customers, the waitress who was flirting with him earlier! And you cannot hide the smug grin spreading across your face despite his ongoing kisses.

When his lips finally part from yours and your eyes meet, there is no denying the intent you find there. The flutter in your stomach, the rapid beat of your heart, and joy blossoming within is mirrored by his amber gaze. You push back your chair and rise to throw your arms around his neck, a chorus of cheers from Cullen’s mates erupting behind him. He hugs back, his embrace strong and enthusiastic, and buries his face in the crook of your neck for a moment. And just before you can withdraw, his arms squeeze your waist and _lift_. He spins you twice and the moment your feet touch the ground, his lips are on yours again.

“Oy! Get a room, you two!” one of his friends calls, followed by raucous laughter.

Chuckling breathlessly, you and Cullen separate. Your cheeks are as hot as Cullen’s look – but there’s not an ounce of regret on his handsome, flushed face. In fact, you’ve never seen him look quite so happy. Horny, yes. Satisfied, definitely. But the shameless grin pulling his scarred lip upward right now is like none you’d witnessed prior, and utterly genuine.

Suddenly, he performs a short bow. With head lowered, one arm across his chest, Cullen asks, “May I take you to dinner on Saturday, my lady?”

“My – what?” Your blush deepens when he raises his head and crooks a curious eyebrow. “I mean, yes! Absolutely, yes!”


	6. Episode 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen takes you to a lovely dinner, but the real treat is what _comes_ after.

You wait nervously for him to pick you up. The man who kissed you, _claimed_ you, in front of his friends. In front of a whole coffee shop full of strangers! It’s only been a few days, but you haven’t gotten to see him since. The picture of his cock on your phone has been well memorized and utilized in that short time. You’ve also been texting, though certainly not enough. You _need_ to see and _touch_ him.

You struggled tonight on the decision of underwear. In the end, you decided to wear a beautiful, lacy and frankly, expensive, bra and panty set. It has its benefits, you realize as you move. The silky fabric against your smooth mound is delicious. The things you’ll be able to feel now! His callused fingers, the dark coarse hair at the base of his cock and, Maker willing, the stubble on his jaw. 

Then you see it through the window you’ve been pacing in front of. The gorgeous black car pulls up and though the windows are heavily tinted, you know it’s Cullen. He’d told you what car to look for but you would have guessed the 1967 Impala was his anyway. Sleek muscle mixed with classic beauty.

Just like its owner. 

You see him step out, pulling off his sunglasses and tucking one folded arm over the collar of his shirt. The leather jacket he’s wearing looks like it was tailored for him. You can tell by the cut that it’s a motorcycle jacket. Maker save you. Imagining him with a powerful machine between his legs, you bite your lip and think, perhaps you should ask him if it feels the same as having him between your legs. 

He hasn't even seen you yet, but he’s smiling as he walks to the door like he’s as excited to see you as you are to see him. You get there before he can even knock, fling the door open, and throw yourself into his arms.

“I’m so excited!” you breathe out before kissing him passionately. He immediately kisses you in return, but in your embarrassment, you pull away, his lips trailing yours. “Sorry I attacked you. I just... missed you.” 

He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear with an understanding smile. “It’s okay. I like being missed.” Cullen chuckles with that amused glimmer in his eye and leads you to the car.

He opens your car door for you and you slide in, hoping to be a picture of grace. Your skirt isn’t provocatively short, but it’s short enough that you can feel the creamy, smooth leather of the seat against the back of your thighs. It’s spacious on the inside, the light leather a stark contrast to the metallic raven paint of the exterior.

The ride is silent for a while because you don’t know what to say. This is the longest you’ve been alone together without ripping each other’s clothes off. You try not to let the insecurity in, but it creeps in anyway. That is until he reaches over and laces his fingers through yours, bringing the back of your hand up to his lips. 

“Keep your eyes on the road.” You smile as his soft lips meet your skin. “Distracted driving is illegal.” 

“Then I’m afraid it’s illegal for you to be in my car,” he quips, though he turns his eyes reluctantly back to the road. 

“Is that how you woo women? With cheesy lines like that?” You laugh. 

“Just the ones I really like,” he promises, lifting your hand to his lips again as his thumb kneads your flesh in soft, soothing circles. 

You beam on the inside, but try and keep your body in check. You have to make it through the date, at least! After clearing your throat, you ask, “So, where are we going?”

“I thought some food first?" he says hopefully.

You find yourself responding a little too eagerly. "Yes that would be lovely! I admit I have been a little nervous today and so haven’t eaten much-" _Stop talking,_ you scold yourself, cringing at your lack of decorum. But his pleased chuckle helps to ease the embarrassment.

No doubt noticing your flushed cheeks and wince of awkwardness, he gently adds, "Then we’ll be sure to get you well fed. You will need your energy for the rest of our evening."

His eyes slide mischievously over to yours and at that moment the setting sun catches his golden hair and tanned skin. He looks so perfect, whatever witty response you were forming dies on your tongue. Suddenly, you are absolutely ravenous, just not for food.

His own confidence falters in the face of your silence and you see a flicker of nervousness in those warm, honey-brown eyes. "Ah- that is..." His hand drops yours to rub at the back of his neck. "There is no pressure, of course. We have gone about this slightly back to front, but I’d never want you to think that I assume anything."

"Cullen," you say softly, taking his hand back and twinning it with your own. His sweetness and occasional flashes of vulnerability are so truly endearing. Such a contrast to, but no less appealing than, the suave confidence that first drew you to him. "You seem to worry more than me."

The lingering tension leaves his shoulders. "Perhaps," he says with a wry grin before announcing that you've arrived. "Wait there." He exits the car and then, the gentleman that he is, opens your door for you and offers his hand in assistance. You gratefully accept it and don’t miss the way his eyes rove over your pretty dress and exposed legs as you step out.

"Oh!" you exclaim as he tugs you to his chest, lips crashing to yours. Just like that doorstep kiss, it is hungry and exhilarating. When he finally pulls away, you are both deeply flushed.

" _Maker’s breath,_ forgive me, but you look so very beautiful this evening." 

You are about to pull him back down by the collar of that ridiculously sexy jacket - nothing else could be more urgent than having him inside you right now. But then your stomach grumbles. Loudly.

He laughs heartily while you reel from the humiliation and the vibrations of his chest still pressed to yours only add to your odd mix of shame and arousal. With an apologetic peck on the cheek, he turns and locks his car.

"Come on, I can’t have you fainting on me. The evening is young yet," he teases. Linking your arms, he leads you to the restaurant. "Is this ok? I know it’s not very fancy…"

You know the place well; it’s one of your favorites, but he couldn’t have known. It’s family-run, not fussy, but they use seasonal produce and take pride in their dishes. "It’s perfect," you assure him. And it is.

Exposed, unpainted stone walls within combine with deep, rich wood tables and chairs to lend a cozy and rustic appeal to the place. The lighting is comfortably dim, with hung lanterns and candles. The seating, a mix of booths and tables, with a long bar at the back of the large room sectioned off by half-walls that give each area a sense of privacy.

It’s long been one of your favorite places, due in part to the excellent food, eclectic interior, and versatility – a place one could enjoy with a group of friends, family, or a romantic evening like tonight. And you can’t help but think it’s absolutely perfect, and Cullen even more so for taking you here.

The hostess gives you a notably jealous side-eye as Cullen strides confidently toward her with you on his arm and announces, “Rutherford, party of two.” You grin and bat your eyelashes at her. _Yes_ , you think proudly, _he is mine_.

She leads you both to a table sequestered in a nice, private corner of the restaurant and departs with a final once-over of your outfit. You squirm a bit, self-consciously, but remind yourself that the man beside you loved it – and in all likelihood prefers you with no clothes at all. And then, said man surprises you by pulling out a chair and offering you the seat with a charming, “My lady”. The perfect gentleman, yet again.

“Thank you.” You flash him your most dazzling smile.

Cullen takes the initiative by ordering an expensive bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon to share, but a worried look crosses his handsome features as the server leaves the table. “I hope that is alright,” he says.

You chuckle and shake your head. “Yes, of course. Don’t worry so much.”

He smirks and takes your hand above the table. “Good. I want tonight to be perfect for you.”

“It is well on its way.” You smile encouragingly and squeeze his fingers. Even just this simple touch of his skin against yours is alluring. It’s all you can do not to rush the evening just to skip to what you want most for dessert. And it _definitely_ isn’t food.

Cullen orders steak, and his eyebrows rise appreciatively when you do the same. You eat your share of salads throughout the week, but tonight, you’re starving – and something tells you he’s the type of man who likes a woman who enjoys her red meat. The food is exquisite as ever, as is the company. The music playing overhead is not overbearingly loud, perfectly suited for conversation, and the exclusive seating means you only share the section with three other tables placed a good distance apart. But by the time the meal is through, the subtle glances, touches, and suggestive quips you’ve exchanged have you practically shaking with anticipation.

“Would you like dessert?”

“Depends…” you say, biting your lower lip, “How hungry are you?”

He rewards you with a lascivious smirk. “Ravenous.”

The two of you settle on a delightful, rich dark chocolate mousse to share that pairs beautifully with the wine. But instead of taking the first bite, you offer your spoon to him across the table with a wicked grin. He looks surprised, at first, but quickly wraps his gorgeous lips around it and licks it clean. A promise of what is to come?

Maker, you hope so.

He does the same for you and you take the opportunity to lean forward, breasts pushed together, laying heavy on the table’s edge. His eyes can’t seem to decide where they want to be for a moment – your mouth, or cleavage. Once the last bite has been taken, you wrap your fingers around the stem of your glass once again and take a sip of the delicious red, eyes never leaving Cullen’s.

Humming with pleasure, you tell him, “That was wonderful, but I’m afraid my appetite is not yet sated,” and sensuously lick your lips.

He sucks in a breath, his amber gaze flitting from your lips back to your eyes. When the toe of your spike-heeled shoe strokes the inside of his calf beneath the table, he tosses his black cloth napkin onto the table and raises his hand for the check.

Cullen and you are like-minded as you race back to his car with the anticipation in each other’s eyes spurring you on. He opens the door and guides you in with a quick, “My lady”, and nod. He smirks and winks, making you giggle. The dinner’s wine and brazen teasing has emboldened you both while relaxing the butterflies and nervousness.

After sliding into the driver’s seat, he turns to you with a hopeful smile. “The night is young. If you don’t mind, I’d like to show you a beautiful site. Well,”-his grin widens-“not as beautiful as you.”

You instantly blush, biting your lower lip. Cullen is all levels of romantic: confident lover, yet adorably bashful, polite and always attentive. You mischievously perk a brow, excited to discover another of his _invigorating_ ideas. “I would love to.”

He drives for a while, and you notice quickly he’s taking you out of the city. Within minutes, the city lines no longer haze the night sky. Cullen keeps one hand entwined in yours, only letting go when needing to steer more. He kisses your knuckles more often like he is trying to stem the tide of his desire a little longer. 

He smirks with you, enjoying drifting and swerving around potholes. You laugh and watch his driving prowess, but hold on to the door just to stabilize yourself. He notices your slightly scared expression after a sheepish glance your way and slows down. You appreciate how aware he always is of you, sensing your needs and responding with kindness and empathy. 

How in the Void has he been single for so long?

 _Lucky me_ , you think with a huge grin.

After a while, he leaves the pavement behind to travel along old gravel roads, the Impala’s v8 engine revving enticingly around each winding turn. Suddenly, the tree line clears before you and opens up to a huge cliffside overlooking forested hills and the city. Leaning forward in your seat, you gasp, awed. He slows down and stops several feet from the rocky edge. You cannot wait to get out of the car and observe this hidden world, but you know to wait for him to open for you.

Taking your hand, Cullen leads you out. For the first time tonight, your sight draws away from your date to the millions of twinkling stars above. You turn slowly, slack-jawed at how many constellations you recognize. The city’s florescent halo below does not dampen the cosmic views. Although, the city is its own unique spectacle, with thousands of street lamps twinkling against the silhouettes of the homes and buildings so small below.

“I hope you like it…” Cullen mumbles, rubbing his neck, seemingly unnerved by your speechlessness.

“Cullen, this is _fantastic!_ I never knew this gem existed.” He follows you, pointing at different stars or buildings. A gentle smile pulls on his scarred lip.

“Here, sit.” He motions to the car hood, then takes his handkerchief and wipes the gravel dust off the metallic black finish so as not to dirty your clothes. You hop up above a light, purposely opening your legs just a bit to give him a preview of what your skirt covers. You see him lick his lips and pant ever so slightly.

This amazing man lays down beside you, your backs supported by the windshield. Thankfully, the engine warmed the hood, so you stay heated beneath in spite of the crisp chill of the night above. Cullen traces out different constellations, his finger connecting each bright star. Listening to his husky baritone voice tell the different legends behind each one, you discover he’s well educated on history and culture. Cullen focuses on the Judex, the Sword of Mercy. He speaks at length about its original purpose and what it represented ages ago – it seems to hold some personal significance for him.

As the hood cools, you press yourself against your date, licking your lips and watching him closely. You lightly grind your hips against his body, which earns you a smug grin. You wrap your hand tightly around his bicep, your fingers wandering up and down his arm every so often. His voice hitches when you skirt his belt buckle or jawline. You like the stubble texture against your fingertips, the cool metal along your inner thigh. That fire from dinner returns the longer you lay there.

Cullen turns his head a little, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. You pray internally that your breath doesn’t smell; you avoided specific foods at dinner for that purpose. Tilting your head upward a centimeter more, your lips meet his. The kiss is soft and gentle, with no pressure. It feels intimate and cherished like he’s made you feel the whole evening. You lean into it a little more, and he responds in kind. You can tell he holds back, savoring the moment.

Your lover licks along your bottom lip, enticing a moan. You know what he infers. Your hand cups his cheek while he leans into you. The kiss is more intense, the restraint you two held the whole night waning each minute. 

The cliffside gets more chilly the longer you lay there. The breeze picks up, drawing you away from the kiss with a shiver. You might be flushed inside, but your bare skin prickles with gooseflesh. Rubbing your arms, you frown, anxious that you’ve ruined the moment.

“Are you cold?” he asks, voice full of concern though with an oddly contradictory smirk on his face.

“A bit,” you admit, loath to make him think this incredibly romantic gesture isn’t appreciated.

He tells you, “I think there’s a blanket in the back," though he makes no move to retrieve it himself. Not very chivalrous of him, you think. Unusual, considering he’s been the perfect gentleman all evening.

You hop - as smoothly as you can in a skirt - from the hood and make your way around the passenger side of the car. When you open the door you don’t notice a blanket straight away, but after a little searching, see it tucked underneath the driver’s seat. You lean in, sprawling your top half over the backseat to reach it.

“Well, if you insist.”

Cullen is right behind you, hands on your hips, suggestively pressing his groin to your rear. You chuckle, rolling onto your back and scooting further into the car. You expect him to drape himself over you, but instead he reaches up your skirt and pulls down your expensive lace panties.

“Very nice,” he says with an approving quirk of his brow before stuffing them into his trouser pocket. “I’ll be keeping these.”

You’re about to make the case that they’re far too expensive for him to simply keep as some lewd trophy, but are immediately rendered mute as his tongue swipes the full length of your slit.

“So smooth,” he reveres. You shove a knuckle between your teeth. “Do you have any idea what that picture did to me, you naughty minx.”

_Lick._

“How many times I’ve taken myself in hand whilst looking at it.”

_Slurp._

“I’ve been half-hard for days because of you and that pretty little cunt of yours.”

You whine breathlessly as he begins a relentless assault, lapping at you until your lips are swollen. You're throbbing with need, deliriously uttering his name when he seals his lips around your clit and _sucks_.

You reach your arms out above your head, pushing yourself more firmly onto his face as your hands press against the fragrant leather interior, so close to reaching your end that you’ve completely stopped breathing. And then it happens. You cry out, the intensity of it washing over you until you are nothing more than sated nerve endings lying in a pool of slick and saliva.

Cullen leaves you no time to recover as he shrugs out of his jacket and climbs atop you, kissing you with the intensity you’ve come to expect from him as you hasten to unbuckle and unzip him. You taste yourself on his tongue and it sends another shockwave through your core. He stills suddenly, panting as he looks deep into your eyes. You wonder if something is wrong.

“Is this okay?” he asks, brows knitted with concern. “Wonderful as our previous encounters have been, I had intended for tonight to be about more than that.”

You feel the blush instantly ignite your cheeks. You absolutely want more, but hadn’t dared dream _he_ would be the one to proposition _you_.

“I-I mean," he stutters adorably, "if that’s something you might be interested in?”

“I am.” You offer a shy smile. “Interested, that is.”

He relaxes at once, his sweet kiss a stark contrast to your eager hands still working to free him.

“And this is most definitely okay,” you add, eager to have him inside you already.

He nips at the angle of your jaw, lowering his voice to a growl. “Good, because you have no idea how badly I wanted to bend you over that dinner table.”

A shameless moan escapes your lips when you feel him, hard against your palm, fingers unable to completely circle his girth as you desperately tug him toward you. He takes ahold of your face, encouraging you to look at him as his tip presses against you, observing your reaction with rapt attention when he smoothly buries himself inch by glorious inch.

He rocks into you as you claw at his back, easily able to picture the way his muscles flex and tense as he fluidly rolls his hips, shouldering a lot of his weight to keep from crushing you. The admission that you both want this to be more somehow acts as an aphrodisiac, coaxing you both to the pleasurable heights of nirvana in record timing.

He kisses you hard as he comes, exhaling sharply with each pulse of his cock until he is utterly spent. He lowers a portion of his weight onto you, gazing into your eyes as though he wants to say something. He settles for a sweet caress of your nose with his own instead before sliding out of the car and offering you a hand.

You take it, and he pulls you gently to your feet. You stumble on trembling legs to the passenger door, Cullen's arms wrapping the blanket around you as he guides you into the seat.

The drive to your apartment is silent at first, while you try to still your rapidly beating heart. “So, I had fun tonight. At the restaurant,” you state, letting the blanket pool around your lap and staring out the window. You're doing your best not to look at the back seat and think about the fun you just had back there.

“As did I,” Cullen answers - a small, dopey grin appearing on his face. "I have some time off next week, if you're interested. There is another restaurant I would love to take you to. If you are free, of course.”

You glance at the backseat without thinking in your attempt not to stare at the look of pure joy on his face. It's almost overwhelming, thinking _you_ made him that _happy_. The memory of him moving within you is punctuated by the still-tingling nerves between your thighs.

Fingers trail up his leg, but you don't yet allow them to touch where you want to most. “I would love to, Cullen.”

“Great,” he answers, his voice cracking a bit when you finally palm him through his pants. “Friday, good for you?”

You lean over and move your mouth to his ear. “Depends,"-you flick your tongue against his lobe-"when will you _take me_?” You press tender kisses down his neck, teeth teasingly grazing his skin.

He gasps, “7 pm.” His knuckles are turning white on the steering wheel as the car picks up speed.

Humming, you smile. "I think I can _come_." You continue playing with his dick through his pants and lathing attention on his neck.

Soon, the car jerks into your driveway. Cullen elbows his car door open, rushes to your side to open yours, and leads you to the dimly-lit entry. You smirk as you unlock the front door, opening it just slightly with an enticing glance back at Cullen.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Yes!” His hands grab your hips as he walks you backward through the door and slams it closed behind him with a swift kick.

Before you can utter another word, Cullen has your back against the door. His eyes, nearly black with desire in the limited moonlight streaming through your window, stare hungrily down at your trembling body. Strong, rough hands yank the dress off your shoulders and down your arms to reveal the lacy bra beneath. 

And he _growls_. It’s animalistic. _Intoxicating_.

Suddenly, he captures your wrists, pins them above your head, and presses his powerful, muscular body tightly against yours. You’re helpless to his other roaming hand and mouth. Andraste have mercy, but he makes you feel so _alive_! As his lips mark a trail down from yours to nip and suckle at your neck, he asks huskily, “How do you do it, woman?”

“How,”–you gasp when he sucks even harder–“How do I do what?” Bolts of pleasure shoot from the bruise he’s creating straight to your aching cunt.

“Drive me so mad.” His hot breath whispers across your sensitive skin.

“It must be magic,” you say, panting.

Cullen pauses a moment and you worry you’ve said the wrong thing. But he doesn’t give you a chance to ask. He releases your sore wrists just long enough to grab your thighs and lift. Scrambling for purchase, you cling to him, blood rushing back to your numb fingertips. You know he would never let you fall, though. So strong and tall, so confident and capable. You’re safe with him. In this moment, like every other, you will let him do anything, have anything, _take_ anything.

He’s rock hard again, bucking impatiently against you. You wrap your legs around him, freeing his hands to frantically undo the buckle at his waist. Yet once he’s free, he slows. With each steady roll of his hips, Cullen’s hard, smooth length rubs across your slit. As though the drive here was not torture enough!

 _Really_ , you think, _it’s he who drives_ you _mad_. With so much more than desire – surely it has to be so, for you’ve come twice tonight and yet you still crave him like an addiction. You want to feel your hot velvet walls clenched around his cock, moving within you, over and over again. To taste the salt of his flesh on your tongue, hear his grunts of pleasure as he fucks you, smell his cologne mingling with the scent of your sex. You want to consume him, and be consumed.

He pulls your bra aside to capture a nipple, his tongue tracing circles around the sensitive flesh. You feel his cock teasing at your entrance and whine wantonly.

Releasing your stiffened peak, he groans, “Tell me, love. I want to hear you _say it_.”

“Fuck me, Cullen. _Please_.”

The fact that he threw in "love" is not lost on you. Maker, you hope it didn’t just slip out and he _meant_ to say it. You’re falling way too fast for this man and you don’t care. 

“Do you want me?” He breathes against your skin, teasing you further. You’ve already begged him. The warm breath and rough stubble on his chin are in delicious contrast to each other against your oh, so sensitive nipple. 

“No!” You almost cry out and feel him stiffen and stop. He raises his head and before you can even register his hesitation, your hand fists in his hair and you pull his lips to yours. It’s frantic and needy and you can’t keep your teeth from getting involved, teasing his lower lip before you pull him away. 

“I need you,” you say in between pants. “Again and again. Maker, Cullen. Just fucking take me.” With that final order, all hesitation leaves him. You both shout in pleasure when he slams into you, the door crashing against the frame. You were right, you can feel the coarse hair at the base of his cock against your smooth skin and it is divine. How had you not noticed that in the car?

“Faster,” you moan. Though the pace he started with could be considered by some as "punishing", you want _more_.

“As you wish,” he rumbles. The door is knocking against the frame and anyone walking past it would likely think that your apartment is possessed. You hope your dick neighbors don’t call the police. 

“Harder!” you keen. 

“So,”-he grunts in your ear with a slam into your cunt that makes your whole body clench and sing at the same time-“demanding!” He gives you what you asked for. 

You grab and claw at the back of his jacket. You hope you don’t ruin it, but it’s all you can do to hold on for dear life. You thought the pounding you’d received at the gym was as good as it was going to get. You were so, delightfully wrong. This man is just raw power. And he wants _you_. 

Not just wants; is taking.

“Come for me.” The predatory growl almost sends you over the edge. 

“I’m so close!” you cry, and you don’t realize your hand has fisted in his hair until he grunts in discomfort. He doesn’t ask you to stop. You honestly don’t know if you could. 

“Come for me,” he repeats, his teeth teasing your ear. His fingers are digging into your skin and you’re sure they’ll leave bruises for you to admire in the mirror tomorrow. 

You can feel it. You’re on the edge and you just need a push. You’re wound up so tight and every nerve ending is singing with the fire in your blood. 

His thrusts grow erratic, frantic. “I’m coming!” He fairly roars and that’s it. That’s what you needed. You explode around him but you aren’t sure if you’re finishing because he is or the other way around. 

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, the timbre of his voice saying your name making you shiver as much as the aftershocks of your release. 

“I want to stay with you tonight,” he says, sounding a little self-conscious. It’s so unlike him to state instead of ask. “I don’t care where; my house, your house, a hotel. Wherever you’re comfortable. As long as we're together.” 

He raises his head from your shoulder and you can’t believe his breathing has calmed so much while you’re still panting. Looking into those beautiful amber eyes, you smile. “My room is down the hall to the left. My bed is kind of small, but I don’t mind if it means being close to you.”

His relieved grin and burning eyes make you melt in more than one place. He slowly releases you and you hiss, making him pause. Your hip joints are positively screaming. “I’m going to need physical therapy to walk properly again.” 

He bursts into laughter, but complies, lowering you a little slower. His hands steady you. “Believe it or not, I can help with that.” You’re sure he’s being serious, but give him a sly smile. 

“Yeah, I bet you can,” you quip. 

His spend trickles down the inside of your thigh as he walks with you down the hall, catching a glimpse of your bathroom. He kisses your forehead and releases your hand. “Go get comfortable and lay down. I’ll be right in.” 

You walk in a daze to your room, pull off your dress, and the bra that remained scrunched up under your breast. Maker, you walked around like that. Once comfortably nude, you crawl into bed to wait for Cullen.

He joins you in your room, pants up but still unzipped and unbuckled, giving you a glimpse of the trail of hair that leads down into them. It’s all he’s wearing. You can see the bulge in one pocket where he’d stuffed your panties earlier.

He climbs onto the bed and crawls beneath the blanket with you. He has a warm cloth in his hand and he’s oh, so gentle when he cleans you. He kisses your neck as he does and you almost whimper when he murmurs how beautiful he thinks you are. When he’s done, he rolls onto his side and wraps his arms around you, gathering your form against his. 

“Goodnight, love," he murmurs softly against your hair. In your sated and exhausted condition, you can only mumble a quick "G'night" in return. You didn't want to fall asleep so fast, but it’s okay; you're in his arms. You're content.

And this time, he’ll be there in the morning.


	7. Episode 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first time you've woken up with Cullen in your bed. If you get your wish, this morning might be even spicier than the night before.

He’s blessedly still sound asleep when you awaken, looking so at home you’d think he’d always been there. You slip silently out of bed and creep to the bathroom to brush your teeth, wash away the remnants of last night’s make-up, and run a comb through your hair. With one final glance in the mirror, you quickly tip-toe back to rejoin him before he notices you’re gone.

You startle when you re-enter your bedroom and he’s staring at your still completely naked form, having apparently rid himself of all clothing in your short absence. He’s propped himself up on the pillows with an arm behind his head, the crisp white sheets barely covering the trail of hair on his lower abdomen, the shape of his hard cock beneath so very easy to discern. You appraise him from head to toe and back again, eyebrow arching with acute interest when he beckons you to him with a curl of his delightfully large index finger.

Despite the blush on your cheeks, you seductively crawl up the length of his body, swaying breasts momentarily drawing his attention away from your face, until you’re nose to nose. You lower yourself just a little, softly brushing your lips against his before running the tip of your tongue along that ridiculously sexy scar.

His fingers slide into your hair and he tries to capture your lips. “Ah-ah-ah,” you object, freeing yourself from his grip to kiss a path down the length of his torso.

You settle yourself between his muscular thighs and his cock visibly pulses with need as your breath ghosts across the tip, bobbing so severely it almost slaps your chin. You scrape your nails teasingly along his mouth-wateringly defined inguinal creases as you guide a testicle into your mouth using only your tongue, beginning a repetitive circuit of gentle sucks and greedy licks.

He sighs, both hands now behind his head as he more than happily submits to your whims, but it’s not until you feel his thighs tense beneath your palms that you allow the sweep of your tongue to reach the base of him. He groans as his hips buck ever so slightly, but you want to see what happens when he’s truly desperate. 

You slowly work your way up the length of his smooth cock, remembering to drop back down to his balls now and then, intentionally avoiding his increasingly purpling tip in an effort to drive him wild. You hear the telltale click of his toes curling over the sound of his sharp exhales, and only when the knuckles of his clenched fists now gripping the sheets beside his hips turn white do you finally seal your lips around him.

He arches his back, unrestrainedly moaning in ecstasy as you take him all the way into your mouth, praying that you don’t gag when he hits the back of your throat. You ignore the pain in your back as it protests against your movements; clearly, you pulled something when he had you against your front door – or perhaps the back seat of his car.

When the pain becomes too much to ignore, you pick up your pace, intent on finishing him off before you’re forced to stop. Lacing your fingers with his, knuckles interlocked, you aim to bring him to completion with your mouth alone. You slurp and suck with gusto, until a hand shoots to the back of your head, fingers fisting into your hair as he releases hot jets into your mouth and a slew of reverential praise to the heavens.

When you’re certain the pulsing of his cock has abated and you’ve swallowed every last drop he has to give, you let him slip from your mouth and make a show of decadently licking your lips. He gifts you with one of his signature smirks as you crawl back up the length of his body, your startled squeal muffled by the urgent press of his lips when he sits up suddenly so that you're straddling him.

“Good morning,” you say when he finally allows, shivering with desire as his hands slide slowly up the length of your back.

“Yes, it is,” he sincerely agrees, peppering your neck and collarbone with open-mouthed kisses.

You do a mental check on the contents of your fridge before asking, “Hungry?” thankful that you’d been grocery shopping just the other day.

“Very,” he growls, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder.

“Not what I meant,” you playfully scold, pulling yourself from his lap and searching for something to wear. You spot the shirt he wore to dinner and, picking it up, ask, “Do you mind?”

He grins in agreement before sliding out of bed and into those tight black boxers that cling to his perfectly sculpted ass. You bite your lip as you ogle him, a little concerned that your racing heart could quite easily burst free of your chest. You slip his shirt on, provocatively leaving the buttons open almost to your navel - since you’re fairly certain it won't be staying on for long anyways - before daring to take him by the hand and leading him out to the kitchen.

As he sits at the table, he looks around. “Nice place. Very open.” He compliments. “Looks different in the daylight.” He chuckles. “Nice table too. Looks sturdy.” 

At first, you’re a little surprised about his choice of praise on your table selection. Then, you see that hungry glint in his eyes and you know why he picked ‘sturdy’. You bite your lip as you turn back around. “Yeah, I bet it could take a beating.” 

You bend over to get a pan from the cabinet and hear an appreciative whistle. You stand back up slowly, ignoring the twinge in your muscles. You’re glad that your position hides both your pleased grin and the furious blush on your cheeks. 

“Are you always that wet in the morning?” He asks. 

“Only when I wake up with a gorgeous man in my bed with a delicious, rock hard cock.” You quip. Maker, save you. You whip around quickly, words tumbling from your lips in a rush, “And just to be clear, that _doesn’t_ happen a lot. Or ever. This is the first time.” 

“Lucky me.” He grins, clearly pleased. “Anything I can do to help?” 

“After breakfast.” You chide with a renewal of your blush.

“I _meant_ is there anything I can do to help with breakfast.” He laughs and it fills your house and your heart. 

“Oh.” You squeak. “No, I’ve got it.” 

You manage to make the eggs and toast rather quickly. After all, you’re only eating breakfast because you should. It will give you energy for later. 

As you serve breakfast, you see him set down his phone. The lock screen is still on and you can’t help but peek at it. 

Your eyes widen and you look up at him. “Please tell me that adorable puppy is yours.” 

He chuckles and doesn’t seem to be perturbed that you looked at his phone. “That’s my other girl. I was just checking in on her. My brother picked her up for me last night when I realized I wouldn’t be home. Her name is Andy” He says with a grin. You can see the utter love in his eyes for the little creature.

 _My other girl._ The phrase repeats in your head.

He unlocks his phone and after a few taps, he hands it to you, revealing an enormous album of pictures. You tap on the first one and almost die. The puppy has a sock in her mouth and is in a deep play bow, big brown eyes looking up at presumably Cullen as he takes the picture. The mabari’s fur is a beautiful golden blonde, like her master’s hair. 

“Andy?”

“Yes. It’s short for Andraste. She doesn’t have as much grace as her namesake; she’s a right terror.” He rubs the back of his neck, smiling almost hesitantly at you. “I’d really like for you to meet her. If you want to, I mean. Since you’re going to be around for a while. I mean if you think you are- _Maker’s breath_ …” he drops off, glancing bashfully away.

He takes a breath and looks up at you. His cheeks flush at your amused and expectant expression. “What I meant to say is that I’d like you to meet her because I think this is going somewhere. I’d like her to get used to you being around.” 

You smile happily, heart fluttering. “I would like that too.”

“You would?” he asks, eyebrows raised. You can understand why he’s surprised. You’ve only been on one actual date and are already talking about the long term. 

“Yeah, I think this is definitely…it’s…”-you bite your lip-“It’s going somewhere.”

He reaches across the table and takes your hand, squeezing it gently. Suddenly, his expression shifts. You know that look by now. “Fuck breakfast,” he murmurs, almost to himself, standing from the table.

He tugs urgently at your near open shirt, his intent to crush his lips to yours halted as a small pained hiss escapes your lips. He stills as his eyes widen in alarm. “Have I hurt you?” he gasps.

“No, not at all!” you assure him, but he notices how you tilt your head ever so slightly to the side to stretch out the nipping pain in the muscle of your neck.

“You are hurt.” He frowns, his face so full of concern as he rounds the table and gently presses his fingers along the base of your neck that you can’t help but sheepishly confess, “It wasn’t you, but I probably should have warmed up before yesterday’s, er, amorous activities.”

“Forgive me?” he says, kissing your reclaimed hand.

You shake your head dismissively. “There’s nothing to forgive. I just may need to take up yoga.” The joke fails to land, judging by his still-worried expression.

“Well at least let me help? I am properly trained,” he pleads. As if you could ever say no to any request of his, begging eyes or not.

“Alright,” you concede, adding as he leads you back to the bedroom, “If it wasn’t obvious by now, you don’t need permission to put those hands of yours on me.”

“And yet, I’ll always ask.” He turns and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now lie down,” he commands with a seductive smirk.

 _Not quite what I had in mind_ , you think as you strip away his shirt and lay face down on the bed, a thin white sheet covering your lower half.

“Do you have any oil?” he asks from the foot of the bed.

“Um, yes, in the medicine cabinet.” You hear the shuffle of his feet when Cullen leaves the room, returning promptly with the baby oil. “You don’t have to do this,” you mumble half-heartedly into your pillow as the warmed oil drips down your bare shoulder blades.

“Please.” His weight shifts the bed as he straddles your lower thighs and brings his lips close to your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

His whisper sends a shivering ripple across your body. Suddenly the thought of being pinned under him and subject to his whims was very, very appealing. The first few strokes are gentle, coaxing you to relax as your back becomes covered in the oil slick and lingering tension gives way to deep pleasured relaxation.

“Mmmmm,” you moan appreciatively. He works you with expert precision, lulling you into pliable submission.

“This might pinch a bit, but I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he says, breath tickling your ear again. Another wave of warming pleasure coils down your spine and settles deep in your rapidly heating sex. Your reply is something crossed between a mewl and a gasp as he sets his hands to work on your stiffness.

The heel of his palm firmly coaxes and untangles the knot. Each firm pass the ache and soreness recedes till you are convinced your body is floating from the soft mattress, even your limbs feel lighter. At the same time, you start to squeeze your thighs together. Pain long subdued now every glide, press and delicate touch pours fuel on the rising desire within you. Hot tendrils from every inch of your body converging on that one urgent bright point that till now has been neglected.

You can’t help it; your hips begin to roll into the bunched sheets below you. A futile attempt to get friction to your touch starved core.

Of course, he notices, chuckling behind you as his hands drift lower and lower. Encouraged by your little whimpers and breathy sighs, skirting under the sheet that was giving you modestly and edging it downwards till you are bared for him. He pauses to admire you, splayed and naked beneath him.

“I could touch you for days and never tire,” he says as he trails a finger up the length of one thigh, then the other. He repeats the motion with his hands, making you squirm with delight.

“Cullen,” you moan as he kneads the flesh of your arse. Each sensual caress encourages you to tilt your hips further up and spread your thighs wider. Teasingly he allows his long fingers to slip between your folds, across your soaked slit to graze your sensitive pearl.

“Ah!” you cry.

Even that small sliver of stimulation is enough to make you rock unashamedly back onto his hand. Wantonly hitching your hips, begging for more, pert and presenting. He strokes you again and you are so very wet, you don’t know if it’s the oil or your arousal that now coats his fingers and you can’t possibly care. With a hungry groan, he dips his head down between your cheeks to lick greedily at your nectar.

With rough hands gripping each supple cheek, he holds you apart and works your cunt, each stroke of his tongue positively electric. You press yourself to his mouth, desperate for the rising crest of pleasure he so skillfully delivers every time he eats you out.

“Cullen…” Your hands fist in the sheets by your head as the rest of the world falls away, senses completely and utterly consumed by the feeling of his hot, wet mouth so close to your throbbing clit. “ _Please_ …”

Another needy whine escapes you when he briefly withdraws. “So wet,” he pants, warm breath whispering over your sensitive, trembling flesh. “So ready for me.” Before you can reply, he’s back between your legs, taking your clit between his lips and he _sucks_.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you listen to the lurid slurping and wanton groans of the man between your legs. You want so badly to see him, to touch him, but right now he has complete control and you _love it_. This man is a fucking _gift_ , and he is all yours. Your muscles clench as you rock against his tongue, bringing you closer to the peak you crave. Climbing, rising, Maker, it feels so good - right there, _yes_!

He works you through the climax until you’re oversensitive and begging for relief. The moment he releases his iron grip on your thighs, you collapse, gasping for air. Every nerve sings beneath your oil-slicked skin as the feeling recedes and your breathing slowly calms. Moaning with satisfaction, you stretch, open your eyes, and turn your head to glance behind you.

Cullen still hovers above you, palms flat on the bed on either side of your quivering legs, a smirk stretched across his face. Maker, he looks so good with your slick glistening on his lips and chin. His cock stands hard and proud against his taut stomach, ready and waiting for you. Your inner walls contract, the sudden ache, the need to be _filled_ nearly overwhelming. You take a breath.

“Well?” _Sound sexy_ , you beg yourself, praying your voice doesn’t crack. “Are you just going to sit there?” His eyebrow quirks up and his lips part, a question clearly on the tip of his tongue. But you don’t give him the chance. “Or are you going to fuck me?”

“You minx,” he growls and grabs your hips, pulling you roughly toward him. Giggling, you turn back to the pillow. Since his hands and mouth have left you pliant and your legs are currently mush, you’re more than content to stay in this position. And it’s one you have yet to try with him...

You raise your arse, silently telling him what you want. What you _need_.

His knees have you trapped as he climbs over you, lowering onto his elbows. Just enough to feel his delicious weight, the press of his strong muscle against your back, but not enough to crush you. His cock slides into the perfect position between your cheeks and you move your body just so, rubbing up and down his length. He groans, shifting to one side, and you feel one calloused palm squeeze your flesh before taking himself in hand.

Warm breath ghosts by your lobe as he rumbles, “You want my cock, love?”

“Mmm, yes…”

He teases, the tip of him just barely grazing your entrance. “Tell me.”

“I want your cock, Cullen.” You rock back again. “I want you inside me.”

And sweet Maker, he obliges. With one hard thrust, he buries himself to the hilt.

You cry out. Stretch for him. Exquisitely filled by his thick, pulsing cock. There is nothing in all of Thedas that makes you feel so whole, so _complete_ , as this man. He lifts up enough to grasp your hips with both hands, the muscles of his rock-hard thighs flexing against yours as he rolls his pelvis. Each thrust powerful yet slow, sensual, bottoming out before withdrawing almost completely to thrust in again.

When you feel his breath at the back of your neck, you turn to meet his lips with your own. His tongue is urgent, demanding, delicious. What soreness lingered from the night before has mostly faded, thanks in part to Cullen’s masterful hands and mouth. Now, all you feel is pure bliss because he’s hitting that spot you love. The one deep within that makes your toes curl and breath come in sharp, ragged gasps.

But it’s not enough.

“Harder,” you demand.

With a grunt, he leans forward, back on his elbows, and begins to pound you into the mattress. The sound of his pelvis slapping against your arse, the salacious wetness of your union, reverberates against the walls of your room. Sweat-soaked hair clings to your face and neck as you moan wantonly beneath him.

“Like that, love?” he growls.

“Just… like… that!” you wail. “Don’t stop!”

You can hear and feel his heavy pants against your ear. He’s like a machine, every thrust calculated. The same withdrawal, the same force, the same angle. All because you asked. You feel the flesh of your ass rolling against his pelvis. 

“Maker,” he grunts in your ear. “You’re so fucking tight. I can’t get enough of you.” His growling baritone sends shivers down your spine. “I can’t wait to feel you come around my cock. I can feel you squirming beneath me.” 

You squeeze him intentionally, to torture him with sensations while he tortures you with his words. He moans and you feel his head fall to the back of your neck. His elbows shift forward and he seeks out your hands, lacing his fingers through yours. You can feel his lips on your neck, your shoulders, your back. 

The man is everywhere. At every nerve ending, every patch of skin. You smell him with every heaving breath you take. You are utterly _consumed_ by him. As you feel yourself growing ever closer to the precipice, you try and raise your hips. You feel him grinding against you and his hands squeeze yours. 

It only takes one more thing to make you convulse around him. The moment he moans your name against your back you explode. “Cullen!” you cry out his name - or maybe plead. Plead for him to come with you, to ride out the storm with you. And he does. 

The short, erratic thrusts and roar of pleasure send aftershocks through your core and up your spine. You swear you can feel his cock twitch as he empties himself inside of you. You turn your head again and his lips are on yours. It’s feverish, pouring the last of your passion into the kiss. 

And when you part, you’re both spent. Panting and covered in sweat and oil. You let your head fall to the pillow and his falls against your shoulder. You can hear him chuckle, feel it in his chest against your back. 

“I think this is the first time we’ve had sex in a bed.” Cullen laughs softly. Your cheeks flush with the realization. You’ve been seeing each other for weeks now, and have had sex nearly everywhere _except_ a bed.

“Huh, well, I think our first bed sex was a success,”-you grin-“I think we should try to do it more often.”

“You won’t get any complaints from me.” Cullen smiles sleepily at you, before his phone buzzes on your nightstand. 

“I’m sure it can wait,” Cullen murmurs as he pulls you closer to his body. “It’s just a text. If it’s important, they’ll call.”

He places light, gentle kisses on your neck. You close your eyes, enjoying the sensation of his soft lips and rough stubble scraping against your skin when suddenly a loud ringing erupts through the room. Cullen pulls roughly away from you and grabs his cell, swiping the screen to accept the call.

“What is it, Branson!” Cullen growls. “Andy did what! The entire house? Bran, I’m struggling to believe she destroyed the entire house in the time it took to grab a package from the porch. Yes, I’ll pick her up. Just give me a few minutes.”

Ending the call, Cullen looks down at you with obvious disappointment. “I’m sorry, my dog.”

“I understand,” you say with a reassuring smile. “Go make sure your other girl is okay.”

After placing a small peck on his hand, you watch Cullen climb out of the bed to tug on his pants and shirt. The moment he turns back to say goodbye; you yank him down by the collar for another kiss. Dragging your fingers through his curls, pulling his clothed body against your naked one, you run your tongue against the scar on his upper lip. His hands wrap around your breast and you moan into his mouth. But he abruptly pulls away, gasping for breath.

“I need to go before I rip my clothes off again and leave my brother with Andy’s mess.” He grabs his phone and turns to leave your room, but stops as he reaches for the doorknob. “I will have my cell, so if you want… I - I’m not trying to pressure you, but…” Cullen stammers, rubbing his neck.

“Cullen, I’ll text you after I get dressed. Alright?”

The smile that earns you is broad and sincere. “Yes, alright.” He nods and leaves the room, but is gone only seconds before running back to you and giving you one last passionate kiss. “I’ll see you soon, beautiful.”


	8. Episode 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen teaches you the meaning of _hot_ yoga.

The date was set. In a couple of days, you would go on your second official “date” and afterwards visit Andy, Cullen’s _other girl_.

His choice of words makes you grin even now, and from the sweet videos he had sent, you’d determined Andy was an absolutely incorrigible Mabari pup. Adorable, and much too smart for her own good – and his. The affection with which he spoke of her made him all the more endearing, and you are excited to finally meet her. And to see Cullen again, of course.

You had been in contact daily since that wonderful morning. Every text exchange, every email, every time you caught so much as a glimpse of him in the gym you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It was far too early to put a name on such emotions, when you were still caught up in the intensity of these new passions.

The gym shower, the store dressing room, Cullen’s gorgeous car, the door of your apartment! So many places, and moments, you remember fondly. Such adventurous couplings were the reason you currently waited for your new yoga class to begin. You needed strength, and definitely flexibility, if you were to keep pace with your _very_ innovative lover.

The studio door clicks behind you. Upon turning, instead of other gym members, or an anonymous instructor, you see Cullen’s signature smirk as he locks the door behind him.

“Cullen!” you squeak as his familiar arms wrap around your torso, crushing your body to his hard, sculpted one. “Someone will see!” Your attempt to scold him ends with giggling as his stubble tickles your neck.

“They won’t. This is a _private_ session,” he says, pressing chaste kisses along your chin.

You pull away, step back, and fold your arms before trying - and failing - to sound cross. “As much as I would love to have a romp on the mats again, I was actually looking forward to a good stretch.”

Cullen chuckles. Moving away, he sets out his own yoga mat. “On my honor as your personal trainer, I promise this will be a thorough workout.” He glances at you and grins. “Let’s start with some sun salutations.”

He behaves himself as he leads you through the familiar poses, the very image of professionalism. If only you could say the same for yourself. “Ogle” is too mild a word to describe how your eyes devour him. His muscles strong and steady, his balance and unexpected grace ridiculously appealing. The peeks of skin you see unobscured by clothing are rippled with definition and glistening with the faintest sheen of sweat.

You try to stifle a little groan of desire. It feels like that first spin class all over again.

“Now, we will add in some warriors.” His voice is like honey. Deep, soothing, sultry… and far too appealing. You curse your request for a workout and idly wonder if he wouldn’t mind bending you over after all. In your distracted state of mind, you lose your balance and wobble over.

Cullen notices. Of course he does. Whether he knows the cause of your distraction or attributes your flushed skin just to exercise, and not the very lurid thoughts you had been ruminating on, you cannot tell. But suddenly, he changes tact.

“I think we need to work on your core strength. Lie down on your mat, with your feet planted flat, knees at right angles.”

He kneels beside you and your heart races at his proximity. He hasn’t even touched you, hasn’t made one inappropriate gesture or comment, and yet you feel the telltale dampness growing in your panties.

“Now push your hips up and hold for one, two. And relax.” He edges closer, and your breath hitches. “You need to get higher, may I help?”

“Yes” you reply, breathless.

With one hand on your hip, he encourages you to tilt again. His other hand slides under you to graze across your buttocks. “Squeeze now.”

You flex, muscles drawing taut. You can’t help the little whimper that escapes you as his hand firmly grasps your rear. He inches ever closer, resting on one arm as he guides your body up and down.

Tighten, then relax. Pressure, then pleasure.

His hand on your hips shifts to caress your sides, ghosting over your thighs and you find yourself leaning into him. “Cullen,” you murmur, lips parting in invitation.

“Hmm?”

“Please,” you beg.

“Here?” he teases, cupping between your thighs and applying gentle pressure.

“Yes!” Your body jolts and he withdraws his hand.

“Ah, ah…” So painfully slowly in your aroused state, he peels your leggings down your thighs till they bunch around your knees. “I didn’t say you could stop-”

You repeat your exercise at his command, thrusting high toward his hands, and try to ignore the shiver of pleasure as your underwear is also dragged away.

“Excellent. One more set.” His middle finger slips between your folds, into your slick core and you gasp at the sudden but oh so welcome intrusion. “Let me feel you squeeze.”

This time, as you rise, he slips his finger in further. In and out, rise and fall. You clench around the digit, trying to draw it deeper within you. You begin to pant and buck slightly towards his masterful hands, but he still sets the agonizingly slow and controlled pace. Probing and stretching and flooding you with an urgent need for more.

“More,” you hum deliriously.

You’re elated when he adds a second finger. Obediently, you continue to rise and fall, working yourself up and down their length. Gripping the edges of the yoga mat beneath you, pressing your lips between your teeth as you exhale sharply through your nose, trying your best to keep your moans to a minimum. But he clearly wants to hear you, leaning close to coax your lips apart with a teasing kiss.

You let out a sharp cry when he hones in on your clit, slick fingers applying just the right amount of pressure as you quicken your pace. You charge relentlessly towards your peak, not even fully aware that after your last lift you never fell, holding firm against his touch until-

“Cullen!” you shout in salutation. _Namaste_ _indeed_.

Dropping back down onto the mat, eyes screwed shut, you’re only vaguely aware of Cullen moving away. You try to steady your breathing - you know the lesson isn’t nearly over - taking long, deep breaths until you feel able to open your eyes again. 

“Shall we continue?” he suggests, standing beside you with a large yoga ball. “Do you know how to do a wheel pose?”

“That’s a backbend, right?”

“Very good,” he praises, offering a hand to help you stand.

After pulling your leggings back up, you take a seat on the ball. “So, which areas does this focus on?” you ask.

Cullen smirks. “This one,”-he positions you onto your back before moving around your top end, pushing down on your shoulders to further arch your spine-“works wonders on your boyfriend.”

You tilt your head further back to question him - albeit upside down - but any thoughts you had about his use of the _B-_ word evaporate when you see his hard cock above you. He’s pulled it out of his pants, and clearly intends to put it in your mouth.

Once again, you think to yourself that his cock might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You lick your lips in preparation, parting them just enough to permit him entrance. The tip pushes against your tongue, thick and luxuriously smooth. You lick and caress the spot you know he loves before widening your jaw for him to slowly slip deeper.

The roll of his hips is well controlled, graceful even, pushing himself a little further each time. You _almost_ gag when he leans over you to unzip your sports top, freeing your breasts to play with your nipples. The zippers were a good idea, after all.

This new angle allows your tongue to explore his shaft in a way you haven’t previously been able to appreciate. You feel every velvety ridge and vein, and if that isn’t reason enough for the contented hums radiating from your throat, the little droplets of spend dripping from his bulbous tip certainly are.

You moan around him as he smooths a hand down your stomach, deftly slipping it into your pants to slide two thick fingers inside your aching, wet cunt. He fucks you with his digits at the same pace his cock fucks your throat until the eager quickening of his pace actually does make you gag. His gentlemanly concern leads to his complete and immediate disengagement.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stutters apologetically, tenderly smoothing your hair away from your face. “Are you alright?”

“Well, I was.” You chuckle, wiping the saliva from your face as he helps you up into a sitting position. “Until you decided to deprive me of-” A sudden ache in your back makes you wince, the result of being bent at an unnatural angle for so long.

“Don’t worry,” he responds immediately, recognizing your discomfort. “I know just the pose for that.”

His calloused hands guide you to a downward-facing dog position. You shudder as they begin tracing over your body, stopping at your ass.

“You are so beautiful,” Cullen whispers. It’s so quiet, you aren’t sure if you were meant to hear it. You’re grateful he can’t see your flushed face. 

His cock brushes against your thighs as he placed small kisses to the small of your back, slowly dragging the leggings down again. He teases, sliding along your wet slit before pushing in agonizingly slowly. Your moans fill the room as he rocks into you. 

At first, the thrusts are unhurried, the pace leisurely. Stubble scratches against your back as he continues to pepper you with kisses, wherever he can reach. All too soon, his grip on your hips tightens and his smooth, steady rutting becomes hard and fast. You keen at the brutal pace with which he takes you, his grip almost bruising. Your arms shake as you try to keep your position.

But it feels so good; _he_ feels so good.

You can barely hear Cullen’s grunts and murmured praises over your own moans as he continues to move within you. His husky baritone and honeyed words alone are enough to break you, and at that moment, they do.

He tenses behind you and slows, still letting you ride out your pleasure, but clearly holding back his own. Once the final peak has crested and your breathing has slowed, he withdraws and pulls you upright. With a grateful smile, you step out of your leggings and let out a contented sigh.

“Let’s take a water break,” he suggests with a wicked grin. “We have to keep hydrated during an intense session like this.” 

“I’m sorry, did you say break?” you ask. 

“You did book the full hour class, didn’t you?” Cullen asks, amused. He heads over to your bags and brings back a water bottle. The cool liquid down your throat, after all the heavy breathing, feels divine. 

“Yeah, a _class_ ,” you emphasize. “How in the world did you convince everyone else not to attend?” 

He shrugs. “Easy, I canceled the class.”

“Who did you have to bribe for that?” You ask with a laugh. 

“Ah, no one.” He rubs the back of his neck. You admire the way his muscles move under his skin. “I, um- I own the gym.” 

You gasp and your eyes widen, both without your consent. “Own? You _own_ this place?” 

“I do.” He looks anxious. “More than one, actually. It’s a family business. Rosalie runs the store, Branson designs equipment, and my sister Mia manages all of the finances, permits, and frankly, the boring stuff that I don’t have the patience for. I run the gyms.” 

“Wow,” you say, taking a moment to let it sink in. That explains the beautiful car. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It never really came up. And, well… the last girl I was seeing… I think she was only with me for the money. I-I like you, a great deal. I like where this is going, and didn’t want you to stick around because of that.” You can tell that was hard for him to admit. Almost as if he’s ready for you to get angry and storm out. 

“Well, to be fair,” you start, carefully watching his shoulders and jaw tense with dread. “This started out with sex. And, by the Maker, it is _fantastic_. At first, I kept coming back for that… but now I keep coming back for _you_.”

The tension drains from him in a rush. When those amber eyes meet yours, you see something so vulnerable in them.

“ _You_ make me happy, Cullen.”

That’s all you have to say to reassure him. He reaches for you, pulling your shirt up your torso and over your raised arms, and tosses it to the floor. “Let me make you happy again,” he says with a promising grin.

You walk backward and he leans over you, holding the large exercise ball in place until you sit. “Lay back,” he whispers in your ear before straightening slightly. “Hold on tight.”

He hooks his arms under your legs. You bend your arms behind you and hold tight to the ball. Cullen maneuvers your ankles to his shoulders, folding you as he leans over your body. You feel him at your entrance, still hard and ready.

He fills you inch by glorious inch, watching with rapt attention as your mouth falls open in a silent cry. His hands encircle your waist and instead of thrusting into you, he pushes you back, the ball rolling along your back, and then pulls you forward. 

It’s slow at first; intense and intimate. His eyes burning into you as you become one. But he starts to roll you onto his incredible cock faster and faster as you moan louder and louder. He pushes your legs from his shoulders and you let them fall to either side of his hips, bracing your feet against the floor.

“Don’t want you to get sore,” he says, pounding into you once, hard, making you cry out. “At least, not there.” He grins, thrusting again.

The soft, pliable plastic vinyl ball cushions your back as he pushes and pulls. Maker, you never thought you’d enjoy yoga _this_ much. You’d attended the classes before, but now, the _instructor_ has you stretching an entirely different muscle. But he’s not just that to you.

He is so much more.

Over and over, he impales you on his thick cock while you grip the ball, knuckles white, and pulse racing. His amber eyes are full of lust and promise - the promise he’d uttered only moments ago with a single word. Cullen is yours, and you are his. And it makes this moment, with him above and inside you, gazing at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, all the more precious. You wish it could last forever.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer as you release the ball, hold his face between your palms, and lean forward to capture his mouth with yours. The taste of him, his salty-sweet musk, dances on your tongue. Each thrust is matched by a muffled cry until you’re forced to pull away, gasping for air. But still, you hold him, and he holds you.

This new angle, with him pressed close, puts the perfect amount of pressure on your clit. Staring into each other’s eyes, you feel your end approaching. “Just like that, love,” you desperately pant.

You watch his pupils widen even further at the endearment, and for the briefest moment, his rhythm stutters. But within seconds he increases the pace, invigorated anew, and steals another passionate kiss.

“Come with me,” he whispers against your lips. “Come with me, beautiful.”

Less a command than a plea, but you obey nonetheless, clenching around his cock as he fills you with his seed. Fills you with warmth, in more ways than one. You cling to each other, riding the waves until trembling and spent.

After a few moments, both catching your breath, Cullen gently rolls to the side, pulling you with him, until you’re lying on top of him on the floor beside the yoga ball. He wraps his arms around your back in a powerful, but tender, embrace and buries his face in your sweat-dampened hair.

Your cheek rests against his chest and you listen to the rapid thudding of his heart slow and calm. “Did you mean it, Cullen?”

“What?” Turning, you see he’s lifted his head to look down at you. A content, almost sleepy smile pulls at his perfectly curved lips.

“That you’re my… my boyfriend?”

A blush creeps into those golden cheeks and his smile tightens ever so slightly as the shock registers on his handsome face. “Ah, I, um… I mean if – if that is what you want. You said this was… more. I just thought-”

His next words are muted by your finger against his lips. You push away to lean upon one hand, hovering over him, your grin so wide your cheeks nearly ache. You nod elatedly.

“Yes! So much, yes!”

“Good,” he says, relieved. With a soft smile, he brushes a lock of hair behind your ear and cups your cheek with one large, warm palm. “Because you make me happy, too.”


	9. Episode 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are excited to meet Andy, among other things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - If you have gotten this far and not quite realized that every single chapter is going to be nothing but filth and fluff then I question just what have you been reading.

You’re a bundle of raw nerves. First of all, you’re in his car. _The_ car. The car that he so thoroughly pleasured you in. Twice. Second of all, he’s driving you home in said car after your date. And third? Well, the third part was the largest part of the delicious problem you were having - keeping your body in check. 

_Cullen_. 

And Maker, can the man dress. The cut of his button-up shirt accentuates his torso and broad shoulders. It’s a deep maroon which makes his amber eyes melt into pools of rich whiskey, swirling with promise. Promises you know he is going to keep. 

He stops at the light of the plaza exit and looks over at you. Left is your place, right is his. You’re several cars behind the light, so he hasn’t had to commit to either direction. “I can still take you home if you’d like. Or, you could come to my place and meet Andy.” 

“I definitely need to meet Andy,” you say in a playfully serious tone. “I need to know how stiff the competition is.”

“What competition?” he asks, holding back a chuckle. His lips have ticked up slightly, drawing your attention to his scar. 

“Who will you sleep with tonight,” you tease. 

“Oh, well that’s easy. I mean-well-it seems easy.” He had to stop rubbing the back of his neck to drive, turning left. “The answer is both of you. I’d love it if you stayed at my apartment. I-um-I really liked waking up next to you last time.”

“I did too. So why are you going to my place?” you ask, confused. 

“So you can get a change of clothes. We both have the day off, I thought it might be nice to hang out and watch movies all day. That way I can see you without having to worry about Andy,” he explains. 

“I would say that was rather presumptuous of you since I haven’t agreed to anything, but we both know I was going to say yes.” 

“I hope you say yes to a lot of things in the future.” He smiles, his eyes briefly leaving the road to look at you. Just in time to see the flicker of shock that runs through you. “I mean-about dates. Not the big… _you know_. Not yet.” He’s turning red. “I mean, maybe someday but this is new and I have thought about it but I know it’s stupid and I _promise_ I’m not getting weird.”

You can tell by the miserable look on his face that the more he says, the more he wishes he would just stop talking. “Maker’s breath,” he says quietly, rolling his eyes.

You stare at him for a moment, more amused and touched than you can put into words. “You missed my road,” you inform him, grinning. 

~

You step onto the elevator and are glad it’s relatively small. It’s very cozy, with soft lights and dark cherry wood panelling. The best part, is how close you have to stand beside him. He smells divine, as usual. Sweat or cologne, it doesn’t matter. There’s always something underlying that you can’t define that’s just so Cullen. 

“Could you set the bag down?” you ask, glancing up at him with what you hope is a seductive look. 

“Of course, is something wrong?” The sweet man is concerned. 

“No, nothing is wrong,” you assure him. When he places your bag on the floor, you slip your fingers through his two front belt loops and tug him against you. He grins then, understanding blooming into excitement in his eyes. “I just want an appetizer of what I hope you were already planning.”

He lowers his head to kiss you, but you press your fingers against his lips and shake your head. “Not quite what I was thinking of having a taste of.” 

You sink to your knees in front of him and he lets out a sharp exhale. You glance down and notice that he is already rock hard and straining against his pants. At first, for a brief moment, you want to laugh at his exuberance, but then the tingle runs through you. He must be that hard already because he was thinking of something to get him that way and it was probably you. 

He glances at the floor selection panel, a soft orange light slowly working it’s way to the bright white one he’d selected when you got on the elevator. His eyes snap back down to yours and he swallows. You’ve already gotten his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. He looks back down at you just in time to see you wrap your hand around him and pull him free. Since you know the ride will be short, you waste no time teasing him. You wrap your lips around him and swirl your tongue to lavish attention on the head of his cock. You hear his hand hit the wall to steady himself as he leans over, the other hand moving through your hair. Your mouth bobs over him, taking him deeper each time until he’s moaning your name. 

You look up to see him glance at the panel again. As if suddenly making up his mind, he pounds the emergency stop button with his fist. The elevator bounces to a stop. 

“Am I not going fast enough?” you ask, lifting his cock to tease the tight balls at the base with your mouth. 

“No, it’s perfect,” he moans, his voice is breathy with lust. “Don’t stop."

You’re both startled by a voice that comes out from the panel. 

“Hello? Is someone there? This is the front desk, You’ve hit the emergency stop button. Is everything okay?” it asks. 

“No!” Cullen says quickly, eyes snapping up. “I must have-” You slide his cock into your mouth again, taking him deep enough to feel the back of your throat. He actually remembers to hit the “speak” button this time. “I must have hit it on accident!” he exclaims, his hand tightening in your hair slightly. 

“That’s fine, sir,” the voice says cheerfully. “You just hit it again to turn it off.” 

Cullen doesn’t respond. He’s too busy watching you. 

After a few moments of silence, she says, “Sir, just hit the button again.”

“What does it look like?” Cullen asks her, distracted. 

“It’s the square red button under the floor selection panel that says 'Emergency Stop'." You can hear the edge of annoyance in her voice. 

“I don’t,” he says, biting his fist quickly as you suckle hard on the head of his cock, rolling and teasing his balls in your hand. “I can’t see it.”

Which is true. He isn’t looking for it. He’s too entranced by you. 

“Sir.” She sounds annoyed now. “It’s a big, red button, about the size of a pack of cards. It has big white letters on it.” 

You’re trying to drive him quickly to the edge. This is a sprint, not a marathon like you usually engage in. His hand hits the button and he blurts out; “I’m almost-I mean-I uh-see it.” He releases the button with a cry when he comes down your throat. He hits the emergency stop and the elevator jerks back into motion while you’re cleaning his cock with your tongue. 

“Good job sir, have a good night.” She is clearly mustering all of the politeness she can manage. You both swear you can hear a murmured “idiot” just before the speaker turns off again.

It takes but a minute more to reach your destination. _The top floor_ , you note, staring at the number lit on the panel in front of you. The elevator slides open to present a single hallway ahead. Cullen picks up the bag and takes your hand, guiding you toward his door – one of only two on the entire floor.

He sets the bag down a moment to fumble with his keys. “So, um, just be prepared. Andy can be a bit… let’s just say she is too smart for her own good. And mine,” he remarks.

“I’ve had dogs before,” you assure him. “I think I can handle her.”

Chuckling, he nods. “You say that _now_. Mabari are… well, you’ll see.” He opens the door and steps aside to allow you entry first.

And oh, Maker, it is even more beautiful than you expected. The floor is dark cherry to match the elevator, its subtle scarlet hues adding a touch of warmth. Matching exposed beams cross the ten-foot ceiling, contrasting sharply against the cream-colored walls and matte black trim. The décor is elegant and modern, yet cozy and understated. It’s an open floor-plan, so you can see the living room, dining area and kitchen just from the entrance. However, distant twinkling lights immediately draw your eye to the far wall.

The entire thing is glass. One long window traversing the length of the apartment, only interrupted by the frame of the balcony door. Beyond, an astounding view of the city below.

“Oh, wow,” you exhale. You take a step toward it, but are interrupted by the sharp click of nails heading your direction. You almost forgot about Andy!

She comes barrelling around the corner from a room just off to your left. Cullen steps in front of you and kneels down to greet her, grinning ear to ear, but she gallops right past him to stop at your feet.

Even as a puppy, she is enormous and obviously powerful. Andy sniffs you, sits, looks up at your face, and cocks her head as though deciding something. Her tail wags rapidly, thudding against the wood, yet her expression is more curious than excited. Nervously, you wonder, _what if she doesn’t like you?_

Cullen strokes her head briefly, then stands, takes your hand again, and introduces you to the pup.

“Hi, Andy,” you say sweetly with a smile. You hold out your hand, palm-up, for her to smell.

She does. And then she jumps.

You release Cullen’s hand and stumble back a step from the weight of the dog now lapping at your chin, wearing the biggest grin you think you’ve ever seen on an animal.

“Traitor!” he says, chortling. “She likes you. I knew she would.”

“A little,”-laughing, you turn your cheek to avoid the full brunt of the slobbering, but embrace her back-“too much, perhaps!”

“Andy, sit,” he commands. Shockingly, the mabari obeys without hesitation. “Good girl.” He rubs her ears, crooning sweet nothings, and then glances at you. “I need to take her for a quick walk. Would you like to join us?”

“I would, but um, I think I should stay and get cleaned up,” you say, wiping your chin with the back of your hand.

He laughs. “Of course. The bathroom is just beyond that door.” He nods his head in the direction the dog came from. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll return shortly.” Cullen pecks you once on the cheek that escaped Andy’s attention before grabbing a leash hanging beside the door and leaving with the happy pup.

Making your way through the expansive living room, you see that in one corner, a comfortable chair sits surrounded by stacks of thick novels – the only bit of visible clutter. Well-stocked bookshelves line the wall behind it. And just beside it, a small table. But instead of more books, it holds a gorgeous, hand-carved chessboard. The pieces sit upon it, out of order as though Cullen’s been playing a game against himself and has yet to finish.

You smile. It’s fascinating, seeing his personal space like this. So often, people fail to live up to expectations. Yet the more you know about Cullen, the more you see him, the more you like him. He’s almost too good to be true. And yet he is real, and really yours. Pride blooms within your chest at the thought that he’s invited you here. That he wants you to be a part of his world, and he a part of yours.

The bedroom of the penthouse is proportional to the rest of it – huge, with high ceilings and luxurious modern furnishings. And the en-suite within it is _glorious_. White marble floors stretch across the room, with counters to match. The shower alone could fit half a dozen people in it, and there’s a separate tub built into the stone that gives you _so_ many ideas.

You wash up quickly and adjust your makeup and clothes. But then, an idea strikes you. You wiggle out of your wet panties and lacy bra, stuffing them into your overnight bag. Walking back into the bedroom, you set the bag in a corner beside the bed and decide to look around some more.

There are only three pictures that you’ve seen in the entire place, sitting framed upon a dresser. One is of Andy, an adorable pose that must have been captured a month or two prior. And the other two are of a family.

In the older portrait, a handsome man bearing a stark resemblance to Cullen, but with slightly darker hair, stands beside a beautiful blonde woman sitting in a chair with a baby in her lap. They are surrounded by other children; a little boy, of toddler age, at the woman’s feet, and two older siblings, a girl and boy, standing on either side of the man. The boy is the spitting image of his father. Wild blonde curls like his mother’s spill past his ears. It’s Cullen’s bashful expression on the boy’s face.

The other is clearly more recent and devoid of the parents. All of the siblings, together, in a loving embrace. Cullen’s smile is wide, yet somehow wistful. The baby has now grown into a pretty young woman – one you recognize immediately. Rosalie, from the sports shop. The other man must be Branson, Cullen’s brother. He is no less handsome than Cullen, but with a slightly fuller, more youthful face, and stands just as tall. And the second woman must be Mia, the oldest.

You wonder when, or if, you will get to meet them.

On a whim, you crack open the top drawer below the pictures. It appears to be full of socks, rolled military-style. But one thing catches your eye - lace. Your expensive panties, the ones he stole during your last date, neatly folded, lay in one corner.

The click of a door leads you to hurriedly shut the drawer. Blushing, you exit the room and find Cullen down on one knee removing Andy’s leash. The moment she’s free, she bounds toward you. Thankfully, she nuzzles your hand this time rather than jumping.

“That was fast,” you say, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“Normally, she takes her time,”-he saunters toward you-“but I think Andy was as excited to get back to you as I was.”

“Is that so?” You stand on your tiptoes to meet his lips. Wrapping his arms around you, he deepens the kiss. A small whimper escapes you when he finally pulls away.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks, voice low and sultry.

You try, and mostly fail, to will your body to calm. More wetness is already gathering at the apex of your thighs. “Y-yeah, sure.”

He leads you to the open kitchen separated from the rest of the space by a long counter with five tall bar stools. A massive island sits in the centre of the kitchen, and you quickly notice all the counters have marble matching the bathroom. You run your fingers across the cool stone, tracing patterns of silver and grey within as Cullen finds two glasses. Andy stretches out across the floor a few feet away, observing the scene.

“What would you like? I have-”

“Whatever you’re drinking is fine with me,” you say.

“Alright.” He turns to the counter opposite you. Atop it sits a small wine rack beside an arrangement of crystal decanters of varying sizes and shapes. Selecting one filled with amber liquid that reminds you of his eyes, he pours out a finger’s width into two snifters and hands you one. Leaning back against the island next to you, ankles and arms crossed, he raises his glass to yours. “To us.”

You smile warmly and toast back, glasses clinking gently together. “To us.”

It’s an aged brandy, slightly sweet and citrusy, deliciously smooth as it glides down your throat. Humming your approval, you lay one palm upon the island and tilt your head up to meet Cullen’s smouldering eyes.

“You have excellent taste, sir,” you tease.

 _Maker_ , the look he gives you at that moment makes your knees weak. Good thing you’re holding onto something or his seductive smirk would turn you into a puddle at his feet.

“I can think of one thing better,” he rumbles, setting his snifter on the counter with the liquor. He takes yours and puts it down beside the other. “You.”

He hungrily captures your lips, this kiss more insistent than the last. With a muffled moan, you wrap your arms around his neck and melt against his powerful body, completely at the mercy of his hot tongue and large, strong hands running down your sides to the hem of your short dress. They lift just enough to grope at your naked arse before he pulls back, the surprise plain on his face.

“You – you’re not-”

“That’s right,” you whisper in his ear. “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

“ _Maker’s breath_ ,” he swears, tugging you roughly in for another kiss. His thigh slips between your legs, the hands on your arse rocking you against it, putting just the right amount of pressure on your clit.

“Cullen,” you pant between his lips. “Please…”

With a growl, he lifts you and spins, setting you upon the cold island. Your legs wrap around his waist, his hard length straining against the material between you. His hot mouth marks a trail down your neck, latching onto the spot where your neck and shoulder meet and he _sucks_.

“Ah!” you cry, pleasure radiating from the centre of his attention straight to your dripping cunt. Your hands fly to his belt, expertly undoing the buckle as he laves his tongue over your flesh.

Within seconds, his cock is free once more. Cullen groans, bucking into your fist, and yanks your dress over your head leaving you bare to his ravenous gaze. He palms at your breasts as you pull him forward to rub his tip with your slick.

“Mmm, so hot and wet,” he rumbles. “Always ready for me.”

“Yes,” you gasp when he takes a sensitive nipple between his lips. “Always for you, Cullen.”

He rolls his hips, making your fingers slide up and down his shaft, the tip still teasing at your entrance.

“Cu-llen,” you whine, wanton and desperate.

At your demand, he buries himself smoothly inside your heat. Bracing yourself against the stone, you match him thrust for thrust, bouncing on his cock.

“You’re so tight, love,” he growls, hands gripping your hips to guide you both. “You feel so fucking good.”

“I’ve – oh!” you cry. “I’ve… been thinking… about this… all night!”

“You think you’re the only one?” His voice is gravelly as his lips graze your cheek, “I very nearly followed you into the restroom at dinner.”

Maker! What if he had? There’s no way in the void you would have been capable of refusing, adding yet another public place to your endless list of new places to have sex. But are they new to him? This level of risque sex was totally out of character for you, but who's to say it wasn’t completely normal for him?

“What are you thinking?” His question surprises you, unaware he’d even noticed the subtle shift in your enthusiasm.

“... nothing,” you answer, rather unconvincingly, as you attempt to resume the previous pace.

“Hey,”-he takes hold of your face, forcing you to look him in the eye-“talk to me.”

You almost immediately succumb to the warmth of his gaze, but first take measures to ensure he doesn’t pull away, firmly securing your legs around his waist. “I was just wondering if this was normal for you.” But the resultant arch in his brow suggests that further explanation is required. “This level of inventive and often semi-public sex with random strangers from the gym.”

“Ah.” He finally understands, the flush on his cheeks immediately leading you to believe it is in fact normal and he’s struggling with how best to break it to you. “No, actually.”

_What?_

He winces slightly, as though embarrassed by his own confession. “I, uh, have never done this sort of thing before - I mean, I had spent a large part of my adult life with just one woman but… it really isn’t my style.” He places one of his delightfully large hands on your chest, hovering over your heart for just a moment before sliding it up and around to the nape of your neck. “I guess there was just something… _inevitable_ about you.”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a bruising though disappointingly short kiss as he pulls back to continue the conversation. 

“What about you?” he asks, looking as nervous as you felt when waiting for his answer.

You snort, rather unattractively you think. “No, I... definitely don’t make a habit of this.”

“Okay then.” He smirks confidently. “Shall we continue?”

Your humble _yes please_ is abruptly cut-off when he slams his still partially housed cock as deep as it’ll reach, instantly rekindling the flame of passion, pulling you to him with a firm grip on your ass.

It’s probably too soon to be feeling what you think you’re feeling. You know it’s too soon to say it aloud, so instead, you say his name - over and over again as you meet each other's thrusts with an exquisitely well-practised synchronicity. 

The next time he bottoms out he stays there, seating himself deep as you repetitively grind yourself against him. He nuzzles your neck as he holds you close, waiting dutifully for you to reach your peak, digging his fingers into the flesh of your ass when the rapid clenching of your orgasm grips him tighter.

You push yourself off the counter as soon as you feel confident in your ability to support your own weight, turning away from him to brace yourself against the cool marble surface. He catches on quickly, smoothly hilting himself as his greedy hands have trouble deciding which part of you he wants to touch the most.

But it isn’t long before the volume of your cries attracts the attention of his other girl, who by the time you notice has arrived is wrestling with the leather belt still attached to the trousers around Cullen’s ankles.

“Andy," he scolds, though not with nearly enough gravitas for the pup to think she’s actually in trouble. He pulls out with a reluctant grumble and turns you to face him. “Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?”

At your hum of agreement, he steps out of his pants and lifts you off the counter. You wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you to the bedroom. His lips never leave yours as you exchange hungry, clumsy kisses while he stumbles towards the darkened room, the sound of mabari footsteps following close behind.

Cullen drops you onto the crisp white sheets of his bed and herds Andy out of the room. Closing the door on the pup who whines in annoyance and gives a few half-hearted scratches on the other side. The bedside lamp is illuminated with a _plink_ as you pull the small beaded chain and turn back eagerly to watch Cullen peel away his shirt. As he climbs back over you, his broad chest cast in deep contrasts thanks to the low light you vow to never have sex in the dark again, not when your partner looks so utterly breathtaking.

Your admiration is cut short as he trails his lips down your neck, his thighs shifting to spread yours wide as he settles his hips into the cradle of your own. 

“Where were we?” has asks as he slides into your willing heat once again.

“Oh,” you whimper needily, as instead of the hard rampant fucking that you had come to expect, you instead find yourself relishing how his hips move ever so slowly against yours. 

His cock gliding sensually in and out, filling you then withdrawing, each time reaching a little deeper and stretching you a little wider but all done so languidly and lazily your head tilts back to rest on the plush pillows. Your whole world becoming consumed by him, your joining and the bubbling pleasure and emotion that builds with each heady moment.

“Oh Cullen,” you moan as he grinds his hips just right against your pearl. You bring your ankles up to rest on his hard buttocks as they flex and push into you and your fingertips grip onto the taut muscle of his shoulders spurring him on with your legs and arms. He draws his body closer, covering you with his bulky heat and consuming your lips urgently. The press of his hard muscle is cushioned softly by the bed as he rolls into you and you writhe and rise to meet him. Slick, soft and gentle and dare you even think it, it's as if you are _making love_ for the first time. 

You both hover on the precipice and still, his control never wavers, drawing out your mutual pleasure with slow, rhythmic thrusts that each set another nerve on fire and places another bright white light in your vision.

Finally, it is too much and you orgasm with a keening cry. Your body clenches around him, squeezing his shaft with the intensity of your climax. He too breaks with a shout of your name, the shattering pull of your walls causing him to moan as you feel his cock twitch within you, his seed spilling deeply.

  
~  
  


“You aren’t wearing my shirt today?”

“Nope, I came prepared!” you reply cheerfully as you step out of the bathroom wearing a cute bunny t-shirt with matching print booty shorts. Cullen has put on a pair of snug black boxers and remains shirtless but it’s his brilliant smile and mischievous eyes that warms you more.

“You are so bloody cute,” he says with a grin causing you to blush and stammer in reply “Well I was hoping you would think me a beautiful seductress-”

Cullen laughs and presses a kiss to your lips to quiet you “And so you are! Every other time I have seen you I have thought “there is a wicked succubus meant to tempt me” but it’s nice to see another side to someone” as he speaks he returns to the bedroom door and lets the eager Andy scamper into the room.

“It is, isn’t it?” you say quietly as you watch him try to encourage the puppy to sleep on her own comfy looking bed in the corner. Tucking her in with her own blanket before taking your hand and pulling you gently back to the bed.

He folds his body around yours and you nestle back into his arms, a contented sigh escaping you, the safety and comfort you feel lulling you toward sleep.

He stretches to turn off the lamp, and then with the sleepy press of his lips to your neck, says, “I give it thirty seconds before _someone_ decides she would rather be on the big bed.”

Twenty-six seconds later you hear the _tap-tap_ of paws by the side of the bed, then a sudden shift in weight. You fall asleep with your toes toasty warm.


	10. Episode 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's your first morning in Cullen's apartment, and it does not disappoint.

Waking from what could probably be considered the best night’s sleep of your life - thanks largely to the heavenly king size mattress and the soft, fragrant sheets - the first things you see are his bright amber eyes and gorgeous, lazy smile. 

Smiling shyly back at him, you wonder just what exactly it was you did to deserve such a Maker-sent man, and why it is that he always looks quite so happy in your company. But your speculating thoughts are abruptly silenced when he slides his large hand off your hip, bringing his index finger up to his lips before mouthing the words _good morning_. You furrow your brow, a little confused by his request, but his subtle head-tilt towards the sleeping mabari who had clearly grown tired of sharing the bed with two and returned to her own during the night clarifies his meaning.

You slowly lift the cotton sheet over your mouth to mute the sound of your voice, responding with a quiet _good morning_ of your own. He gently tugs the sheet from your grasp, stealthily shuffling closer to pull you into a full, open-mouthed kiss.

You both freeze, eyes widening comically when Andy whimpers in her sleep, but as soon as her adorable snoring resumes so too does the kiss. She’s clearly a heavy sleeper, and it makes you curious as to what else you might be able to get away with.

You scoot closer, almost imperceptibly, until only a couple of inches separate your bodies. He returns his delightfully large hand to your hip, squeezing a little tighter in surprise when you dip your hand into his boxers and wrap your fingers around his tantalizingly, and quite frankly rather flatteringly, rock-hard cock.

His teeth sink into his maddeningly inviting bottom lip, his beautifully expressive eyes slipping shut for just a moment before presenting you with that signature smirk of his which never fails to send an intense shiver of delight down your spine.

He never takes his eyes from yours as he slips his own hand into your little shorts, both of you breathing a little faster as he applies just the right amount of pressure to exactly the right spot with such ease that it borders on boastful. 

You tighten your grip on him, slowly working your hand up and down his velvety-smooth length as his skillful fingers glide over and around your pearl. You sigh breathlessly as your climax quickly builds, both of you gently thrusting against the others hand, desperately chasing release before Andy wakes up and demands attention.

It’s almost embarrassing how easily he’s able to arouse you, so marvelously attuned to your preferences and desires, as though he could read your mind. Desperately, you surge forwards to capture his lips, hoping that it might muffle the rapturous sounds of your conclusion, and it might have worked had Cullen not also found his end, moaning loudly into the kiss with each gratifying pulse of his cock you feel against your palm.

You break apart laughing when Andy inevitably comes bounding towards you, nestling herself between you atop the sheets as she furiously laps at Cullen’s chin. “Alright, alright,” he relents. “Time to get up.”

At hearing these words, Andy scrambles off the bed and races out the door - presumably headed for the kitchen where her empty food bowl awaits.

Cullen kisses you on the forehead before reluctantly disentangling himself from the sheets, and you can’t help but ogle that deliciously firm bottom of his as he moves to follow the excited pup. You listen with a smile on your face as he talks to the clever little hound, wondering if he expects you to follow suit as you hear the telltale sounds of him filling Andy’s food bowl, but he reappears within a matter of seconds though only to disappear again into the en suite.

“I’m going to jump in the shower,” he loudly announces, popping his head back out to add in a more seductive tone, “care to join me?”

Giggling at his mischievous invitation you fling back the blankets and hurry to join him.

Peeling away your pajamas, you enter the already foggy room, hot inviting steam rising up from his walk-in shower, in spite of which you can see the outline of his sculpted body, tempting and nude.

“Here. Let me help,” he says as he comes to stand behind you, lathering up his hands before working them into your hair. His fingers are gentle as they massage your scalp,

“Mmm,” you moan in approval and complete contentment. His soap is elderflower and oakmoss and you foolishly hope that after all this idyllic day is over and you are back home that his scent will linger on your skin.

“My turn,” you say, and start to soap his body up. Your slick hands smoothly slide over his defined abdominal and the pronounced dips and rises of his strong muscles. He sighs and allows his head to tilt back, the hot water clinging to his curls and running wet glistening streams down his beautiful face.

Glancing down you see the telltale swelling as his erection starts to stir back to fullness. You idly wonder if he has ever had a soapy tit wank and are almost about to drop to your knees to explore that scintillating position, the idea of him spilling across your chest extremely appealing - when you hear a whine by the bathroom door.

Cullen smirks as if he had been reading your indecent thoughts, “As much as I would love to stay here all day, someone is going to need a walk.”

“That’s okay.” You reach up to peck him on the lips. “How about we grab some coffee on the way for breakfast, my treat seeing as you got dinner?”

He seems almost surprised at your offer but readily accepts and you both dress with nothing more than a few exploratory touches. Cullen sliding your panties up your legs is almost as arousing as him taking them off.

The dog park is close by and Andy knows it. Despite Cullen’s calls to heel when the open greenery come into sight, she begins to pull on her lead. You quickly snatch his coffee away so he can let her run loose.

“It’s a nice day,” he says sheepishly after you have settled on an open bench.

“It is,” you reply, content to just sit by him with your arms linked while Andy runs around with her tongue lolloping out the side of her mouth.

“I am sorry I don’t have anything more extravagant planned for today. If you like, later we could go shopping or I could take you to dinner?”

You glance sideways at him and see a flash of vulnerability, odd considering his normally confident manner.

“Cullen. As long as we’re together…” you sigh, trying to think of a way to properly explain your feelings, “I don’t care if we are at a fancy restaurant or a dog park, at the gym or hiding away at home…”-your fingers lace with his and squeeze tightly-“I love spending time with you.”

He seems so relieved by your confession that you can’t help but ask curiously, “Did your ex mind?”

He looks thoughtful, but after a short pause admits, “Yes. She insisted on being out almost all of the time, on being seen, and was obsessed with social media. I got the impression she didn’t actually like me at all just my-”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence.

“Suffice to say Rylen and my family did try to warn me. But when you have been with someone for so long you think that certain behaviors are normal, even if you find yourself envying your own best friend his happiness.”

His raw, honest confession is heartbreaking. Shifting closer, you whisper, “I’m sorry you went through that.”

What else can you say that his family and friends wouldn’t have already said in the aftermath of such a break-up? And so, you do the only thing that seems natural. You kiss him. 

There is no urgency, only affection as you try to say with your actions rather than words, _I’m here, I respect you and I will never treat you that way._ It reminds you a little of your kiss at the coffee shop. Public, unashamed, and taking your relationship forward another level.

When you pull back, your serene smile reflects in his eyes. Golden eyes that darken with lust as he studies your kiss flushed face and moistened lips.

“We’re going back. Now”

You blink, confused. “What about Andy?”

He whistles and the mabari comes bounding over, satisfied with her exercise. Cullen attaches her lead, then fixes you with a stare that makes your knees weak. “We’ll take her again later but right now I need to get you back before I have you against this tree.”

You gulp at the promise in his eyes and, threading your hands together once more, allow him to guide you back to his apartment. A little quicker than the leisurely pace you set on the way there. Upon making it back, Andy snorts with disgust and makes herself scarce, almost as though she knew what was to come.

A good thing, too. Because the second his door is locked, Cullen pushes your back against it and, with a needy groan, crushes your lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss.

You’ve been here before. Between a front door and this incredibly aroused manifestation of your perfect man. And you _love_ it here. His mouth is everywhere. Your lips, your neck, pulling back your shirt to lavish attention on your shoulder. It just isn’t enough though. 

“Cullen,” you moan, tilting your head to feel his lips move up to your jaw. “I need you.” 

He pulls back, surprised. His hands squeeze your hips as grin spreads across his handsome face.

“ _Need_ me?” Your meaning was twofold and he seemed to recognize that. “Need _me_?” He pushes his hips against yours, pressing you back against the door. “Do you need me deep inside of you?” 

He brings his lips back to your jaw, kissing up to your ear. “Do you need me to fuck you until you can’t walk?” You give a distracted, affirmative hum. “You’ll have to stay here with me and Andy,” he warns with wicked promise. 

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to raise your voice any further or think of anything more eloquent to say. His hands slide around to cup your ass and he pulls you up. You wrap your arms and legs around him, one hand buried in his hair. You pull him in for another kiss, trusting him not to run you into any walls. 

You forget about that when his tongue slides across your lower lip. You respond in kind and he grunts in approval against your mouth. Then, suddenly, you’re falling. With a gasp, you hit something soft, bouncing slightly. You have a brief moment to glance around you and see that you’re on the beautiful couch. Maker, you hope you don’t ruin it. 

Not that you have any time to contemplate that. He captures your attention again, pulling his shirt over his head. You love the peek of his stomach as he reaches behind his head and drags it up. Your hands follow, moving up his stomach to his chest, fingers running through the coarse hair there. 

His amber eyes turn predatory at your exploration and he lowers himself to his knees. “I want you. I don’t know if I have the patience for fore-” 

You stand abruptly, never breaking his gaze, and cross your arms over your torso to pull up your shirt. You feel his hands at your pants, unbuttoning and tugging them down your hips. Within a matter of moments, you’re bare to him. He kisses your stomach, his hands sliding along your back making you shiver. 

He lifts his head, looking up at you. “Are you wet for me again?” he asks breathlessly, his voice a low rumble

“I’m wet for you _still_ ,” you correct with a grin. “I’m always ready for-” You squeal in delight when he shoots to his feet, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you against him. You can feel the heavy weight of his hard cock against your stomach. 

“Get on the couch and turn around,” he growls against your lips. Your breath rushes from your lungs at his command. You love your sweet and gentle Cullen, but this confidence is just as arousing. 

You turn to climb onto the couch and are caught by surprise. The couch is up against the window. A beautiful view of the city is spread out in front of you. It’s a little thrilling, being open to the world. Yet, this isn’t the view you want.

You kneel on the cushions, resting your arms against the back. You look behind you and bite your lip at the sight of Cullen urgently unfastening his pants and pushing them down. He wraps his hand around his thick cock and strokes it slowly as he takes you in. You watch the way his hungry eyes move over you. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls. The expletive is so rare for him and it makes you grin that he felt the need to use it with you. About you. He doesn’t just think you’re beautiful - you’re _fucking_ beautiful. 

Impatiently, you wiggle your ass at him, widening your knees slightly in invitation. “Please, Cullen,” you whine, swallowing hard. 

He grips your hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock to your wet slit. The head slides between your lips, circling your clit a few times before he finds your entrance and slams into your cunt with one, swift thrust. You cry out and your hand slams against the glass. You know he’ll worry about hurting you so you plead, “Don’t stop!” 

As he’d warned, there’s no patience in him right now. He sets a rapid pace, hammering into you and hitting that perfect spot with every stroke. His hand slides up your back and curls over your shoulder, using it to pull you back against him. His other hand slides over your ribs, reaching beneath you to cup your breast. 

You feel him lean over you, kissing the back of your neck and along your spine. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers, his quick pants of breath warming your naked skin. “You feel so good.” 

You cry out his name, your cunt clenching around him. 

“Say it again,” he groans, teasing your nipple. “I love it when you say my name.”

“Oh, Cullen!” you obediently keen, fighting to keep your eyes open to the beautiful view.

The sky is clear and bright, calm, above the bustle and noise of the city. But all you can hear right now are his grunts of pleasure against the nape of your neck. The sloshing wetness of your union. The steady, rhythmic _swish_ of the overhead fan as it moves the conditioned air across your nude body, prickling goosebumps in its wake.

You lose yourself to the sounds. To the sensations.

His teeth scrape against your skin as he sucks and nibbles. Fucks you. Gentle now, but no less insistent. Staying seated to the hilt with each roll of his hips, he rocks into you, pressed deep.

You clench around his girth and gasp, “Harder…”

He straightens. Grips your pelvic bone, giving him enough purchase and the perfect angle to slam into your cunt. Tilting your hips just so, you press back against the glass, matching him thrust for thrust. Each one needy, unrelenting; bordering on rough but you love it. Love feeling him moving within you, filling you. His fingertips digging into your supple skin. Listening to the slick slap of flesh against flesh.

Through the lust-addled fog of your mind, you spy a chaise lounge on the balcony just beyond the glass between your flattened palms. You remove one hand from the window and reach behind you to grab his arm.

He pauses. “Too hard?”

You glance back and shake your head, smiling to reassure him. “No, I just- I have an idea.”

Cullen reluctantly withdraws and steps back. But he smirks, clearly intrigued. “Let’s hear it.”

Your heart swells. He’s always so good-natured, so willing to listen, to give you whatever you desire. Could he be more perfect?

You turn to stand on trembling legs and, rising to your tiptoes, wrap your arms around his neck. “That lounge outside,” you whisper. You take his lobe between your lips, flicking your tongue to taste the salt of his skin, relishing his moan of arousal. “I want to fuck you on it.”

He chuckles. “And you said I was the ‘adventurous’ one.”

Suddenly, he picks you up again and you wrap your legs around his waist, giggling excitedly. His cock bobs against your arse as he carries you through the balcony doors. The sunlight caresses your skin like a warm embrace, so different from the chilled air inside. He sets you down carefully before pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

Breaking away with a breathless gasp, he asks, “How do you want me?”

Oh, Maker. This man.

“Lay down.”

Once situated, he crosses both arms behind his head and looks up at you with an enthusiastic grin. Clearly, he likes your idea already. You take a moment to enjoy the new view – your golden Adonis stretched out, the sun dancing across his sculpted muscles, thick cock standing proud and red, ready and waiting for you.

You straddle his lap and bend down for another kiss, reaching between your bodies to guide him back to your aching center. You mount him slowly, inch by glorious inch, until he’s bottomed out and – as he so frequently says - _Maker’s breath_! He’s so deep like this!

“Fuuuuuhhh-” he groans. You capture his mouth before he can finish the word.

He bucks impatiently beneath you and your thighs clench, holding him in place. You rock lazily, back and forth, and sit up with your hands on his chest. His hands shift from their place behind his head to roam over your hips, breasts, then back down to squeeze your arse. As though he’s unsure which part of you he wants to touch most.

“I want to look at you,” you say, increasing speed. “I want to see you when you come.”

You start working him in earnest, rising and falling on his cock. His molten eyes seem fascinated by your point of connection, so you decide to tease him a little. You extract one hand from his chest and touch your clit. His pupils dilate immediately.

He sits up with a growl, crushing you against his chest, and his powerful thighs begin bouncing you in his lap. You cling to him, winding your fingers through his curls, and give a gentle tug. Pull his head back enough to suck at his neck. You want to mark him, claim him, as he claims you.

Too soon, you can feel the crest approaching. “I’m – I’m close!”

On cue, Cullen picks up speed, leaning back just enough to study your face. “Come with me, love.”

You climax together, his hot spend filling your pulsing cunt as you both collapse on the chaise, trembling and slick with sweat. He holds you close, mumbling sweet nothings into the Void. It takes a bit before you both regain enough senses to fully speak. His cock is soft, and still inside you, but you are not yet ready to move.

“Cullen?”

“Yes?” he says, tenderly stroking your back.

But how could you possibly vocalize all you feel at this moment? The fullness in your heart? The bliss, the adoration? A phrase dances on the tip of your tongue, but one you’re still too afraid to speak.

“I want… I wish we could stay like this forever.”

He lifts you away just enough to see your face, to cup your cheek and stare deeply into your eyes. “As do I.”

Just then, you hear the sound of nails scratching. You both turn to see Andy whining at the door. Upon seeing your acknowledgment, she licks the glass, and you laugh.

“I think someone is lonely.”

Cullen chuckles, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “She’s never had to share me.”

You smile and give him one last, too brief kiss. “Well, she’ll just have to get used to it. Because I’m not going anywhere.”


	11. Episode 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been invited to a special dinner - time to meet the rest of the Rutherfords!

“Is this dress alright?”

Andy huffs from the backseat, nose pressed to the window, as Cullen chuckles softly to himself. “I told you about this a week ago, and yet you’re still nervous?”

A blush creeps into your cheeks, so you busy yourself with smoothing the silk skirt over your knees, avoiding his glances. You’re in his car on the way to his sister Mia’s house, heart ready to leap from your throat from sheer nerves.

How in Thedas did he manage to talk you into this? Oh, that’s right – his perfect face was between your legs at the time, stubbled jaw scraping the margins of your thighs, with you trembling and panting his name.

The weekend prior, you spent nigh the entire time at his penthouse fucking on every surface you could find whilst Andy groaned and - you could swear – rolled her eyes, from a distance. Maker, his tongue could make you submit to almost anything. And so, you’d agreed, without completely realizing it, to a ‘family dinner’ with the Rutherfords.

But now, mid-drive, you’re half-heartedly considering leaping from the cab and making a run for it. Not that you actually would, but even the scrapes earned along the way sound better than disappointing his siblings. One of whom might already reserve some judgement for you because of the way you met her in that sports store however many weeks ago.

Had it already been… no, _two months? Really?_

Your already-racing heart’s pace quickens further at the realization. This beautiful, polite, debonair gentleman had been courting you – and fucking you senseless – for _two entire months_! A celebration might be in order… but first, to survive meeting his family. Please, please, let them like you!

“Of course, I’m nervous. It’s… it’s your family. They’re important. _This_ is important.”

Eyes never leaving the road ahead, he calmly takes your hand in his. Strokes the back of it with his strong thumb, steady and soothing. “Don’t be. You have nothing to worry about. They’re going to love you just as much as–“

A strangled noise escapes his throat and he releases your clammy palm. Coughs into his fist not once but twice, as though he’s choking on some food.

“Cullen, are you okay?”

The mabari whines and her nose appears briefly beside your arm to check on her master before returning to her far more enticing view.

Cullen clears his throat and steals a brief glance at your face, a faint hint of red staining his golden cheeks. “Uh, yes. I’m fine. My throat is just dry, I’m sorry.”

With a furrowed brow, you turn to stare out the window, anxiously watching the city streets change to blooming fields, lush forests, and ripe farmlands, too concerned with the coming event to attempt interpreting his sudden awkwardness.

After several more tense, silent minutes, you finally come to your destination when Cullen follows a long, winding driveway through the trees to a lovely brick home. Large, and yet somehow quaint and cozy. Unassuming. The car’s engine has barely sputtered off when the door opens and his sister emerges. A tall, broad, tanned man with a roguish grin follows just a step behind, one hand in his jean pocket, the other waving. Cullen waves back before turning to you.

His brow creases ever so slightly. “Are you ready?”

You sigh. “No.” But you will feign it as best you can, for him. You’ll do anything for Cullen. “But with you by my side, I will be.” You offer him a smile you hope appears more reassuring than plaintive and adjust your bodice.

He grins, gives you a quick peck on the cheek, and exits the car to come around to your side and let you out. _Ever the gentleman._ And right now, you doubly appreciate it because the moment you rise, your knees buckle beneath you. Cullen catches you in one smooth motion.

“Hey,” he whispers, both arms wrapped around you, hands tenderly stroking your back. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be fine.”

“You promise?”

He nods. “Do you trust me?”

You gaze into his amber eyes and are greeted with such warmth, you can’t help but to whimper back, “Yes… Implicitly.”

Cullen smiles, whistles for his mabari to follow, and gently takes your hand to lead you toward the house. Andy bolts right up to the couple curiously ogling you, tail wagging furiously, tongue lolling from her grinning mouth. When you reach the porch, the pretty blonde woman with eyes just a shade darker than your lover’s immediately throws her arms around you, her smile bright as the sun, while Cullen shakes the man’s hand in greeting.

“Rylen.”

The man’s thick Starkhaven brogue rolls like honey off his tongue as he replies, “Cullen, glad ye could make it! Just started heating up the grill; Bran’s back there tendin’ it for us. And this lovely lass, let me look at you!”

You disentangle yourself from Mia’s embrace and politely introduce yourself, extending one hand. But instead of shaking it, he too pulls you into a fierce hug.

“Ah, we’ve heard so much about ye! Y’know, you’ve got Cullen here all twisted in knots. Dare to say the man’s in-”

He’s cut off by a swift jab to the ribs. Cullen stands beside him with an expression closer to a grimace than a smile, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. “Why don’t you invite us inside, _Rylen_?”

Chortling good-naturedly, Rylen releases you and backs up a step. “Aye, come in, come in! Make yourselves at home. Would ye like a drink, lass? Beer for you eh, Cullen?”

Mia shoots you a knowing glance and rolls her eyes, smiling affectionately. “Ignore him. He’s such a goof.”

Cullen hesitates, waiting for you, but you wave him on ahead and smile to show that you’re alright. He grins and gives his sister a warm hug and brotherly kiss on the forehead before entering with Andy hot on his heels.

Watching through the outer screen door while he strips his leather jacket to hang it on a hook, you clear your throat and turn back to Mia. “This, uh, is a lovely home.”

“It’s Rylen’s – well, soon to be _ours_! I love it out here, away from the city. It’s quite beautiful.”

You glance around at the surrounding nature just as a lofty breeze wafts across the pure blue sky, carrying the scent of wildflowers. Serene, comforting. “It is. Quiet and peaceful, too. So different from the city.”

“Well, if you’re ever due for a vacation, our family owns a cabin not too far from here. By the most gorgeous lake in Thedas, I might add. I’m sure Cullen would love to take you.”

“Oh? That does sound lovely. Work has been… well, work.” You giggle brightly, glad that Mia is both friendly and kind. Perhaps this dinner will go better than you’d hoped.

“Where are my manners!” she says, clapping her hands together. “Please, do come in. Would you like a glass of wine? Josephine – a family friend – brought me the most delightful vintage from Antiva last time she was in town.”

“That sounds delightful!” you say with a genuine smile. Just like your Cullen, they’re so inviting and kind. They’re a true family in every sense of the word and by way of dating Cullen, you’re already a part of it. _Dating_. Your heart still thumps when you think of it. Not as much as when you think of _him_ though. 

Mia leads you to a beautiful kitchen. Polished granite countertops, rustic antique wood cabinets. It’s so spacious and tidy. A true heart of the home. Rylen and Cullen pass you as they head to the backyard and his hand brushes intimately along your lower back. 

Cullen’s sister slides you a glass of deep red wine that smells delightful. “Thank you.”

Before you can try it a herd, no a _stampede_ , of puppies comes tearing through the kitchen. Andy is at the lead, three others literally nipping at her heels. They’re all various shades of blonde, like Andraste herself, though they have slightly different brownish markings to help tell them apart. 

“Hey! Who wants a cookie?” Mia calls, catching all of their attention at the same time. The one at the rear of the pack doesn’t stop fast enough and slams into one of their siblings. “Do you want to meet them?” she asks, holding out a few dog treats to you. 

“Of course!” You immediately set down your untasted wine. Andy has no hesitation when it comes to you. She sees the treats in your hand and immediately plops her bottom down in front of you, looking up at you and wiggling. She lets out little whimpers, shuffling her front feet with barely contained energy. You give it to her and she bolts for a corner of the kitchen so that she can eat in peace. 

“This one is Bogbean. He’s ours.” Mia says, lifting the biggest pup into her arms. He has dark brown ears and defined brown patches over his eyes that give him comically large eyebrows. “Bogbean is a type of herb they use commonly in Starkhaven to flavor ales. Men and their ales, right?” She chuckles. 

She points to the one closest to you who is looking between you both in excitement, her massive tongue too big for her mouth. This one is, without a doubt, the goofiest of the bunch. “She’s Branson’s. Her name is Bella which is Antivan for beautiful. As you can see, he’s hoping she’ll grow into it.” 

You laugh and give her a treat, watching her try to munch it around her tongue. Any bits Bella drops, she moves to stand over so that her siblings can’t steal them. “So this one must be Rosalie’s?” you ask, giving your last treat to the remaining pup who is waiting so very patiently. 

“Mmhmm, Nugget. She’s the runt of the litter. Everyone thinks she’s shy, I think she was just born with an old soul.” Mia sets Bogbean down among his siblings again. He immediately shoves his head under Bella to clean up her crumbs and Mia tugs him back by the scruff of his neck. “You’ve had yours, you little monster.” 

She stands and you join her, taking your wine. “Come on, you’ve met the pups, now it’s time for the rest of the humans,” she says with a brilliant smile that puts you immediately at ease. 

Eyes wandering the house as she leads you to the backyard, you muse, “They look like they’re all from the same litter.” 

“Yes, Cullen has a friend from his military days, Alistair, who breeds Mabari.” she says. You glance down and notice that Andy is following you. You know she’s following you specifically because she’s looking up at you directly each time you look back at her. You can’t help but smile. You’re one of her people now. 

Mia puts her arm through yours and leads you to three women sitting at a table beneath a string of twinkling fairy lights strung up across the yard and beautiful surrounding garden. “Ladies, this is Cullen’s sweetheart. She’s much better than the last one.” Mia grins as she introduces you by name to the three women. “This is Rosalie, the baby.”

You hope the flush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as obvious as it feels like it is. 

“Wonderful to see you again,” Rosalie greets with a sly grin. “How are those new workout clothes treating you?” 

You clear your throat and nod. “They’re fantastic, thank you.” _Maker, save you._

Mia waves toward a petite woman with a spray of freckles over her nose. “This is Rosie’s girlfriend, Claire.” Her curly blonde hair is a thing of envy the way it falls over her shoulders. Her thick, black glasses draw attention to vivid blue eyes. 

“It’s nice to meet you. Rosie has told me all about how you met.” The woman grins. You feel your cheeks grow hotter. “You and Cullen sound so… taken with each other,” she teases. 

“Of course, she did,” you say as light-heartedly as you can. “It’s very nice to meet you too.” Despite the ribbing, you feel quite at home with these people already.

“And this is Zoe, Bran’s date.” You notice the specific use of ‘date’ instead of ‘girlfriend’. Zoe is, frankly, gorgeous. Slim body covered in a tight dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. Any trepidation you might have as you start to compare yourself to her disappears when you glance at Cullen. You can see the intensity in his amber eyes as he gazes at you from by the grill where he’s chatting with Rylen and another man.

“Branson is that one over there,” Mia says, nodding in his direction. “The spitting image of Cullen at that age, you know.”

But it’s hard to take your eyes off Cullen, looking utterly dashing in his perfectly-tailored slacks and fitted button-down with the sleeves rolled up. When he realizes you’ve caught him staring, he smirks, that scar ticking up as his eyes sparkle. He winks at you and you return the smile before turning back to Zoe.

“Pleasure to meet you. All of the Rutherford’s have beautiful taste in partners.” 

“Indeed, they do.” Rosalie grins mischievously and your blush instantly rises back to your cheeks.

After the initial teasing, it doesn’t take long for Rosalie to warm up to you, for which you’re relieved and thankful. Just as Mia excuses herself to check on the food, Branson approaches you, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Branson Rutherford.” He extends his hand. “And you must be the girlfriend he keeps talking about.”

Grinning back, you wonder if the giddiness over being called Cullen’s girlfriend will ever fade. You hope it doesn’t. “That’s me!” you say brightly, shaking his hand.

“Well, an honor to meet you, miss. So… how long did it take my brother to make a move? Or did you have to?”

“I took some of his classes at the gym. I don’t know how long he waited but…” Your eyes flick toward Cullen, a coquettish smile creeping to your lips at the memory of that first night in the gym shower. “Well, no one really made the ‘first’ move. It kind of just… happened naturally, I suppose.” _Like you were made for each other._

“Hm…” he says, his curiosity clearly not satisfied. “So, he didn’t try any cheesy pick-up lines?

“Dinner is ready,” Mia interrupts, saving you from further explanation. “Branson, why don’t you come help me? _In the kitchen_.” 

“Welp, I think I might be in trouble, ladies.” Branson grins devilishly and winks before leaving with Mia.

Moments later, as the family gathers around the table on the back patio, beneath the twinkling fairy lights and glow of moonlight, Mia shoves Branson to the corner seat beside her. Cullen’s face is etched with confusion and he glances at you with one arched brow.

You shrug. “Branson attempted to get embarrassing stories earlier. I think Mia’s trying to keep him in line, probably to make sure he doesn’t scare me off.”

He smirks, interest piqued. “Oh? And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing.” You giggle. “Pinky swear.”

The dinner goes smoothly, with each Rutherford swapping various tales and stories of their youths and Rylen embarrassing Mia with the occasional raunchy joke. The food is delicious, and the wine sublime, leaving you full and pleasantly buzzed. When it’s over, Cullen stands and takes your hand.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Cullen whispers into your ear before pulling you away from the table. He tells Mia and Rylen that you’ll both be back soon, a comment that Cullen’s friend meets with a cheeky smirk. Before either of them can say anything, you’re whisked away from the garden.

You shoot him a curious glance. “Is there actually something out here or-”

Cullen laughs at your question and threads your hands together, leading you away from the beautiful farmhouse to a pretty copse not too far away.

“Branson and I have always been a little competitive,” he confesses. “Although I’m certain I can weather a few embarrassing stories. I just wanted the chance to spend a little time alone with you, especially when you look absolutely ravishing.”

You feel the familiar tingle of a flush on your cheeks at his compliment. How he could go from shy to utterly disarming in the space of an instant was a constant source of wonder. “Ravishing?” you ask, arching a brow.

“Yes, now stop distracting me and look here.”

He pulls you in front of him so you can admire the view together. The setting sun highlights a beautiful lake surrounded by trees in all shades of verdant green. Its scenic, pristine and peaceful. His arms wrap around you, his thumb drawing small circles on your hand as you take in the ambiance.

You sigh contentedly. “This is beautiful."

“Yes,” he whispers by your ear. “But not as beautiful as you.”

Shyly, you glance sideways to see him staring at you and giggle. “Oh, you did not just say that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your jawline and innocently asks, “What?”

“You are such a nerd.” You snuggle back into his arms.

“Maybe we should take Mia up on her offer of a stay at the cabin?” Cullen suggests, his breath tickling your neck as he speaks.

“I’d love that.”

He hums and nuzzles your hair, your ear, and you feel the warmth rising up from where his hips are grinding into your rear. Your head falls back to rest on his shoulder as he starts to lick and nip at the sensitive skin of your throat. Your hands urgent and eager bend up to thread into his hair and tug at what you can reach of his shirt.

“Mercy, Cullen,” you moan as he impatiently grinds against you again.

You spin in his arms, crushing your lips to his and it is suddenly so hot despite the cooling evening air. You feel him drag you till his back hits a large tree and with the added purchase you push your body up against his, your soft still covered breasts rubbing against his hard chest. Always you are moving, groping, clinging, clawing at each other’s clothes and exposed slithers of skin.

“I need you,” he groans as you roll against him searching for more friction for your touch starved core.

“Yes!” you gasp as he picks you up by your thighs, turning till your back hits the smooth bark behind you. After a moment of shuffling and tugging his proud length is freed. Your skirt has long hitched up, only your lace panties remain as a barrier between you and in an instant he has pulled the narrow gusset aside.

“Cullen!” you shout as his rock hard cock parts your folds. Impaling you with a swift sure thrust that makes your head roll back in ecstasy. 

“I. Love. Your. Tight. Hot. Cunt” he rasps with each fast, insistent penetration. Your pleasure is rising so quickly as his body rocks into yours, coaxing needy whimpers and broken cries from you.

The angle is perfect for his cock to stroke your sensitive inner walls while his pelvis rubs against your clit. 

A few strokes more and you feel the tell-tale clench as your body starts to shake and spasm. Your vision blanking to white pure bliss while his sculpted arse gyrates, pumping his sensational cock back and forth, pounding into your willing heat over and over and over.

Your cry of his name is silenced as he crashes his lips to yours. Muffling your screams as he takes a few final hard thrusts before spilling into your still pulsing cunt.

You take a moment to right yourselves before meandering back to the house, hand in hand. You hope nobody comments on your prolonged absence, despite the sex being the definition of a quickie. You suspect Rosalie has a good read on you, but it’s more likely to be Branson or Rylen who’d call you both out.

“There ye are.” _Correct_. “Was about tae send out a search party.”

“Just giving her a thorough tour,” Cullen answers, and though he meant to spare you from embarrassment his use of the word “thorough” has quite the opposite effect.

“I’ll bet.” Rylen replies without missing a beat, suggestively waggling his eyebrows.

Cullen turns to you, having felt the involuntary tightening of your fingers interlocked with his. His eyes widen slightly before he reaches up to discreetly pluck a piece of tree bark from your hair. 

“Ready to go?” he asks, not giving his so-called friend a chance to cause further embarrassment.

“Sure. Let me go say goodbye.” You dart off immediately to say goodbye to the girls drinking cocktails on the patio, minus Mia. You encounter Branson as you head toward the house, a beer in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. Clearly the party is just getting started, but you have work in the morning and could really do without the hangover. You find Mia in the kitchen, shrink-wrapping leftovers and putting them in the fridge.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen him so happy,” she says, looking out of the window at the oldest of her younger brother’s, who is still chatting with Rylen. “I think I have you to thank for that.”

“He makes me happy, too,” you reply with an honest smile.

“I’m sure he’s told you about his ex by now. That gold-digging whore really did a number on him.” Her mood seems suddenly soured by the mere mention of the woman. “And you should know that I won’t allow that to happen again.”

 _Oh_. “Mia, I promise I’m not interested in his money.” You panic. “I didn’t even know-”

“I’ve seen the way you look at each other,” she mercifully interrupts, her tone blessedly resuming its natural warmth. “You can’t fake that. Just… please be kind to him. He’s been through enough already.”

“I truly care about your brother… He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. And since meeting him I find that I’m different, too. At first, I thought I wasn’t being myself, and that did scare me a bit. But I’ve since come to realize that, actually, I’m more myself than I’ve ever been. And that’s because of him.”

“I can’t speak for Cullen,” you continue. “But this relationship feels like it could really go somewhere. Hence, why I was so nervous about today. I know how much you all mean to him and how important it is that I earn the Rutherford stamp of approval.”

She smiles warmly at you. “That was a good speech.”

“Completely unprepared,” you lie, both of you chuckling as she draws you into a farewell hug.

You finish your goodbyes when Cullen and Rylen join you, thank your hosts again for their hospitality then head out to the car. One loud whistle from Cullen and Andy obediently comes galloping out of the house, launching herself onto the backseat when he opens the door for her.

“Well, that wasn’t as perilous as expected.” You breathe a sigh of relief after the engine starts and the house slowly fades from view.

“I’m pleased you survived,” he teases. 

“Arse.” You smack him on the shoulder before quickly asking. “So, how did I do?”

“Perfect.” He immediately responds. “Everybody loved you, just as I said they would. Honestly, I was a little worried that Mia might corner you…”

He can tell immediately from your posture that his instinct was right and he’d somehow managed to miss the event. “She didn’t say anything to upset you, did she?”

“She just cares about you, is all.” You chuckle reassuringly. “And now she knows that I do too.” 

He takes your hand and pulls it to his lips, giving you a sideways glance for as long as he is safely able while driving in the dark. “More importantly, what did you think of everyone?”

“Honestly… I thought they were great. Very warm and welcoming. You’re very lucky to have so many people who love you.”

You exchange an uncertain glance, and not allowing the atmosphere to become awkward you quickly continue. “Claire and Zoe were really nice, too.” You catch the eye roll and the slight head shake at your mention of the latter women.

“What?”

“Well, she isn’t exactly the brightest of sparks. I can’t help but wonder what it is they even talk about.”

“Stop it,” you playfully scold. “She was a sweetheart.”

“You know she told me she thought hard-boiled eggs were disgusting - which, you know, nothing wrong with that. But then she went on to say that she didn’t like the _crunchy-soft texture_.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle your laughter. She really was a lovely girl and it feels wrong to make fun of her like this. “Well, if Branson is anything like his big brother, I doubt they have much time for talking anyway.”

You wink when he casts a surreptitious look your way, both of you good-naturedly laughing until you eventually settle into a comfortable silence.

“I hate taking you home,” he moodily admits as he inevitably pulls up outside your house.

Eagerly, you offer, “You’re welcome to stay over.”

“I’d love to.” He’s clearly pained by his need to refuse. “But madame won’t be happy if her breakfast isn’t served as soon as she wakes up in the morning.”

You cover your face with your hands, completely embarrassed to tell him what you’ve done. Will he think you’re taking things too fast? Your heart begins to race.

“What?” he asks, baffled by your reaction.

“I feel like such a presumptuous idiot, but -” You sigh. “I may have… purchased a few things for her. So that you could both stay over if it was ever necessary.”

He arches a brow, smirking at you with that too handsome face of his. “Define a _few things_.”

“Just a bowl and some food… and a bed.” You swallow nervously. “And a few treats and toys and… doggy shampoo.” You wince before covering your face again.

He chuckles as he takes your hands in his, and even though you feel a fool the deep cadence warms you to your bones.

Sulking, you mumble, “Oh, don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing,” he lies, while still very clearly laughing. “And I think it would be very rude of us to refuse such a thoughtful offer of hospitality.”

After parking the car, you let yourself out then open the door for Andy. She jumps out and looks around, slightly confused, but follows after you both as you start to walk toward your house. As soon as the door is open she darts inside and disappears. You’ll later find her curled up in the bed you’d placed at the foot of your own.

You sit watching TV for a while, nestled snuggly into the cradle of Cullen’s strong arm as he presses frequent kisses to the top of your head. When you eventually go to bed, he doesn’t try anything, despite the steel rod poking you in the back as he assumes the position of big spoon, content to just hold you as you both slip into a blissful slumber.


	12. Episode 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen takes you on vacation.
> 
> Note: There's a time jump of a couple months from the previous chapter.
> 
> CW: Explicit gif in the end notes

You’ve been distracted all day. Now, as your colleagues head out for the long weekend, you find yourself waiting by the office window for his arrival. It had been a couple of months since you first talked about this trip but now it’s arrived you can barely contain your excitement, pacing restlessly and checking that you remembered your hiking boots, swimwear, and outfits for the evening “activities” also.

At last, he pulls in front of your building in his shining black Jeep Grand Cherokee. A more practical choice, since you’ll be heading into the nearby mountains. He steps out to lean casually against the car and you find yourself pausing to admire him. He’s wearing his familiar sunglasses, worn denim jeans, and a flannel shirt that is buttoned down just enough to expose a peek of his chest hair. The butterflies in your stomach _dance_ at the sight of him and you drag your heavy bag down the stone steps, abandoning it on the sidewalk to barrel into his outstretched arms.

“Hey, you.” Cullen smirks as you pull back from your hug, a telltale flush no doubt on your cheeks.

You whisper a breathy, “Hi,” before he takes your hand and leads you around to the trunk. It opens and you grin as your favorite girl is revealed. “And hello to you, too!” 

Andy lifts her head and wags her tail halfheartedly. She looks less like a pup now at eight months old, well past the full-grown size of other breeds. From the look of it, Cullen has made her a very comfortable traveling bed in the trunk. It’s not enclosed, and still has an opening to the backseat so you can hear her from the cab. Andy’s tongue lolls as she grins at you, or at least as close a dog can get to such an expression, but her lids are heavy with exhaustion.

He laughs beside you. “Someone is a little tired from our run today. Honestly, when I tried to coax her back to the car she rolled over and played dead”. A gruff snort is the pup’s confirmation of events as she lays her head down between her paws and promptly falls back to sleep. 

Cullen grins. “Okay princess, we’ll leave you to your rest.” He closes the trunk and lifts your heavy traveling bag with ease, depositing it instead on the backseat where you can see his own bags as well as a cooler, boxes of groceries, wine, and other treats for your mini-vacation.

“The journey will take about two hours,” Cullen says when you join the main road leading out of the city. 

You’re content to just enjoy the ride, admiring the landscape as it changes from urban to wild. Watching the setting sun as it lights up the sky and the interior of the car. The orange and pink hues play on Cullen’s straying curls and golden skin, and you find yourself staring in awe at the man who has been holding your hand this past half hour. 

He takes a turn from the highway and in no time at all, you’re traveling through thick forest. The dog is still happily asleep and the near desertion of the area gives you an idea.

 _After all_ , you think, _you’ve had sex in his other car. It’s only fair that this one sees some action too._

“How much longer?” you ask innocently, the hand that had been entwined with his instead starts to draw gently swirling patterns onto his muscular thigh.

You see him gulp as your hand drifts closer to his fly, a mischievous smile on your lips. “A-ah about twenty minutes,” he says, a ragged “ _Maker’s breath_ ” escaping his lips as you shamelessly palm his hardening length over the fabric of his jeans.

“I’m driving,” he warns, followed by a moan of your name as you deftly slide down his zip. No other protestations follow.

With a little tug here and there, you free his magnificent cock and caress it eagerly. You stroke his silken shaft up and down, reveling in how hard and heavy it feels in your hand. As you work him, Cullen’s breathing becomes increasingly shallow. When he gives an involuntary buck of his hips, you know you have him.

He has already slowed the speed of the car, so you confidently unbuckle your seat-belt and fold yourself over his lap.

“Minx,” he rasps. 

“Mmhmm,” you agree, taking him in your mouth and swirling your tongue over the few salty beads of precum leaking from his tip. Tongue pressing flat along his length, you swallow him down, your nose grazing the folds of denim as he hits the back of your throat. 

As you pull back you suck, lips and tongue forming a tight seal that slides over and stimulates every ridge and nerve of his cock. Up and down, till he is slick with saliva. You lap, lick and suckle, his hips rocking up toward your face with each deep swallow. 

His hand that is not on the wheel threads into your loose tresses, fingers raking your scalp guiding your pace. Gently coaxing you with soft touches and tingling tugs of your hair. The excitement builds for you too, and although you won’t take your pleasure here, you squeeze your thighs together at every little whimper, sigh, and utterance of praise that pours from his lips.

“P-Please,” he begs. You know what he is asking. You hum around him, mouth still stuffed full, and he groans as the vibrations add to his rising pleasure.

With a few last urgent rocks up into your parted lips he stiffens, cock swelling as with a broken cry his orgasm crashes over him. You greedily swallow his tangy spend, cleaning him with your tongue until he softens, and then coyly tuck him back into his jeans.

As a final parting show, you lick your lips slowly. Despite his recent completion, his eyes darken at the action.

“Oh, look,” you say smugly, “I think this is our turn”

The road leading up to the cabin is long, but it gives you time to appreciate the serenity of the place. Nothing but nature for as far as the eye can see. A vast, beautifully clear lake - in which you predict you’ll both be swimming naked at some point during the trip - surrounded by a lush, thick evergreen forest.

Nestled against the treeline, sitting just a few paces from the lake, is the Rutherford family cabin. It’s so tastefully constructed that it hardly even looks out of place. It’s all wood and windows, a two-story home crafted with massive tapered logs and sloping roofline, a grand patio which wraps around the building, and a few neatly composed rock gardens framing the steps which descend to the water's edge.

You stare in wonder as Cullen pulls up and parks the car. “This is gorgeous.” 

“I find myself too distracted to notice,” he says in response, perfect dork that he is.

You turn to face him, intending to poke fun, but are silenced by the press of his lips as he pulls you into a passionate kiss. You slip your hand beneath his shirt, his warm skin so delightfully inviting. Your palm easily detects the rapid beat of his heart, and the implications of such a physical reaction further stimulate those ever-present butterflies in your stomach.

And then Andy decisively ends the romantic moment with a loud bark, the sudden stillness having finally woken her from her rather noisy slumber.

“She’s right,” you joke, giving him one last peck before getting out.

Cullen lets Andy out, the dog happily bounding one rapid lap of the cabin before sitting obediently by the front door. Cullen hands you the keys to let yourself in, insisting despite your protestations that he carries the bags himself. Defiantly, you grab one of the crates of food. You race away from him, narrowly avoiding a spank on the arse.

The interior is just as rustic as the exterior, though you’d guess a lot of money had gone into making it look that way. A mix of log and stone, with quaint sconces, made to look like old lanterns decking the walls, and one large fan hanging between the central exposed beams running along the vaulted ceiling. There are stairs leading up to the open loft, where you can see a second seating area and the hall where you assume the other bedrooms are.

You find the kitchen first, off to the right of the spacious entryway. It’s a large family-sized kitchen, certainly big enough to house the present table for six and still have plenty of floor space. You can’t help but imagine all the happy memories Cullen must have of being here with the rest of his family. And it warms your heart to think that he wants to make more of them with you.

You place the crate on the center island and head off to check out the other side of the cabin. Off to the left of the entryway is another very spacious room, this one with lots of seating and a grand stone fireplace. The color scheme is mostly dark greens and blues, with lots of little plaid accents. Your eyebrow arches when you spot the fur rug, imagining how it might feel against your bare skin with Cullen weighing you down.

You move further in and find what appears to be the master suite. The bed is _enormous_ , just like the rest of the place, really. But before you’re able to investigate further, Cullen charges into you from behind and tackles you to the bed. 

“Patience.” You giggle, swatting him away as he descends upon your neck. “Why don’t you go get the fire lit while I slip into something more... _comfortable_?”

He doesn’t move, continuing to hold you captive beneath the weight of his decadent body, smirking dangerously as he offers, “Or... I could stay and help you undress.”

You lift your head off the bed and move your face close enough to his that he can just about feel your lips against his own. “Or, you could do as I say. Believe me when I tell you it will be worth it.”

He steals one slow, sensual kiss, then slides off the bed and wordlessly disappears. You take a deep breath and slowly exhale, thinking that just might have been the most difficult thing you’d ever had to do.

Spotting your luggage by the door, you throw it on the cushioned ottoman at the foot of the bed, quickly unzip it, and snag the _special_ outfit you’d intentionally packed last to save time, then rush into the en-suite to change.

You struggle clumsily out of your clothes, nerves making your simple attire seem more like a straight jacket. And re-dressing is no easier. Eventually, you’re able to give yourself an appraising glance in the mirror. The full-length negligee you brought is a deep crimson trimmed with gold and almost completely see-through. It’s backless, with a low V neckline and a thigh-high slit on one side. 

_Panties on or off?_ you think to yourself. It’s a real dilemma. You know what he’d prefer… but they are part of the ensemble, so you decide _on_. 

On second thought, _fuck it_. Panties off.

With a last deep breath for courage, you head out in search of your appetizing lumberjack-looking man. The orange glow in the dimly lit room tells you the fire is burning, and then you spot him. He’s reclining in a leather wingback chesterfield with a glass of something amber in hand. His attention is occupied by the crackling flames… until he seems to _feel_ your presence.

He turns his head, lips parting slightly as he drinks you in. You meander towards him, stopping a few paces away to give him a slow twirl. His free hand goes for his groin, unashamedly rearranging the uncomfortable bulge that wasn’t there mere moments ago.

He puts down his glass, sinks back into his chair then slowly pats his knee as he almost _growls_ , “Get over here.”

Obediently, but very slowly, you saunter toward his parted legs. Eager, but teasing. Swinging your hips as the silk caresses your supple curves. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, running your hands down your breasts and abdomen. Taunting him with the press of slender fingers to the apex of your thighs through the luxurious cloth. Cullen watches with darkening eyes. He licks his perfect lips, breath visibly quickening with anticipation.

Perching delicately upon his knee, you wrap your arms around his neck and whisper, “You like?”

His hand snakes into your hair as he pulls you into a long, needy kiss that leaves you breathless, heart pounding beneath your breast.

He smirks against your swollen lips. “Does that answer your question?”

You twist to straddle his hips and roll your own against the erection still disappointingly trapped within his jeans. He groans his approval, hands drifting to guide your movement. Within seconds he’s captured your lips again, his desire building to a fever pitch as your bodies grind together, desperate for friction.

Cullen peels the top of your lingerie down to reveal your breast and takes the hardened nipple into his mouth, wet and hot on your tender, sensitive flesh. Keening in pleasure, your hands scramble to unbutton his flannel shirt, the need to touch and feel and hold every inch of him overwhelming. He shirks it off with a grunt and throws it to the floor behind you. 

The instant it hits the wood, your fingers are in his lap. Clumsy from lust, they fumble to unclasp the button of his jeans until he growls and pulls away to do it himself while you kiss and lick your way from his neck to the chiseled line of his stubbled jaw.

Within seconds, he frees himself from the confining fabric and rubs against your slit, already dripping and ready for him. But you aren’t in the mood for foreplay - there will be plenty of time for that throughout the vacation, surely. Right now, you just want _him. All of him._ Inside you, consuming you.

Grasping his shoulders, you angle yourself and sink down onto his glorious cock, crying from the bloom of pleasure that instantly spreads from your cunt to the very tips of your fingers and toes. Cullen’s head tips back to touch the chair, his hands still on your hips, thighs clenching beneath you with each eager thrust while you undulate above him.

Your lips are pressed against his neck, kissing and suckling. Your hands are everywhere; winding through his golden locks, clinging to his shoulders, running down his chest. The salt of his sweat on your tongue deliciously masculine, the juxtaposition of soft curls and hard muscles beneath your fingertips utterly intoxicating. Faster and faster you ride, Cullen rutting hard up and into you. Held so close, the pressure against your clit perfect, each powerful thrust hitting that spot deep inside, spilling jumbled praises to the Maker from your lips and making your toes curl.

It isn’t long before you’re brought to your peak, your cry of his name lost in the crook of his shoulder. But he isn’t done with you yet - not by a long shot.

He rises from the chair and gingerly lowers you to the rug. It smells of earth and wood smoke, of the cedar and pine beyond the cabin walls, of memories long past. Mingles with the scent of you and your lover, of sex and sweat. 

The hearth’s flickering orange glow warms your goosefleshed skin, still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You whimper as he pulls out to yank off his boots and jeans, but use the opportunity to writhe wantonly beneath him, fingers gripping the fur, legs splayed and waiting, hair spread under you as you arch and chant his name like a prayer. 

“Cullen… Cullen, I need you…” you plead.

He moves hastily, molten gaze raking over your sweat-slicked form, the top of which is slightly concealed by sheer crimson silk, the bottom spread to bare your aching, wet pussy. Before long, he’s back between your legs, legs which wrap around his firm, round arse and pull him close as he enters you once more. 

Bottoming out with a lusty groan, he buries his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent. Presses tender, loving kisses to your temples and cheeks. This time, his thrusts are powerful and deep, but somehow gentle, as though his concern is more for prolonging your combined pleasure than merely achieving release. Savoring this connection, this beautiful and perfect moment. 

Cullen rests his weight on his elbows and cups your face. “Look at me, my sweet.”

That’s when you realize - this isn’t just sex. This is more, so much more. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in the doting whispers rolling off his tongue, the ragged and heavy breaths you share, and the slick slap of his flesh on yours. You feel it in the pulse of his cock and the tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. It’s intimate, the way he holds and caresses you, his body surrounding and embracing you as your hearts beat in synchrony to the rhythm of his hips. 

Your heart, swelling with affection and the purest bliss, tells you exactly what this is.

_He’s making love to you._

The enormity of it hits you like a wave. A tear slips from the corner of your eye and his thumb immediately brushes it away. You feel him still inside of you though his strokes have ceased, hips nestled in the cradle of your own. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispers, brows furrowing as his amber eyes darken with concern. “Am I hurting you?” 

“No,” you say quickly, though it comes out in a breathless huff. You weave your fingers through his hair, bringing his forehead against yours. “You could never hurt me.” You hold his gaze, enraptured by those molten amber eyes that you so easily get lost in. “Please, don’t stop Cullen. I need you. More than I’ve ever needed anything or anyone.” 

His smile makes your entire body react. You bite your lip as your cunt clenches around him. He groans, the sensation spurring him back into action. He withdraws, almost completely, and slowly fills you with his thick cock. You can take every inch, but barely. And the fit is so glorious for both of you. Like you were made for each other.

You raise your legs, opening for him further. With each thrust, you’re pushed back slightly, heels bouncing off the back of his thighs. Your hands slide down his sides, relishing in the shiver it sends through him as the pads of your fingers tickle his flesh. 

They move lower, to his backside, gripping and urging him slightly faster. You can feel his muscles moving beneath your palms, the raw strength that this man contains intoxicating. _And he knows just when to use it_ , you think, as he surges into you. 

You close your eyes and moan, enjoying the sensations he invokes. The deep thrum of pleasure when he buries to the hilt, hitting the back of your cunt with the thick head of his cock while his pelvis rubs against your clit. You’re so close you can feel every nerve ending in your body winding up for release. 

His voice is liquid velvet as he urges, “Look at me.” 

You do and find his face close to yours as he continues to surge into you. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I can’t get enough of you.” He grunts as he slams deep, wringing a cry from you. “You’re the best thing to _ever_ happen to me.” His head falls to your shoulder for a moment and you hear him murmuring your name over and over with each thrust. 

You need your release so badly that your pleasure borders on pain. It’s like you’re waiting for something. Something _more_. He kisses his way to your lips again, so exquisitely sweet. “And to think, we could have passed through each other’s lives so easily. If we hadn’t met in that shower-” 

You cut him off with a crushing kiss, your fingers digging into his flesh. His cock twitches inside of you, thrusts growing erratic. You know the signs, he’s just as close as you are. 

“I would have found you,” you assure him. “You would have found me...” 

The next thrust pulls a moan from your throat. You don’t want this to end and you can see that he doesn’t either but both of you are climbing, higher and higher, trembling and close. Breathing the same air, arms wrapped around each other, panting and pleading. Becoming one.

“Cullen!” His name comes out in a strangled cry as your release sneaks up on you. You scream it again and feel his hand on your cheek. He slams into you faster, the shuddering of your inner walls triggering his own climax. 

“Look at me,” he gasps, holding back until your eyes snap open. His lips crash into yours as you feel him slide home, cock pulsing, filling you with his seed. 

You’re still spasming around his girth, orgasm prolonged by his words and movements. The stimulation is almost too much to bear. How much fantastic sex-no, love-making- can someone take? You pray to any god who will listen that you find out with this man or die trying. 

Wrapping your legs around him again, you hook your ankles to keep him close to you. You slide your arms around him as well, through the slick sweat on his back which has been warmed by the fire beside you. He breaks the kiss and looks down at you, panting. Lets more of his weight settle against you, comforting and secure. You feel tears gathering again so you smile, letting him know everything is fine. 

His fingers brush over your forehead, pushing aside your damp hair, then trailing down your cheek. He smiles back at you and… something changes in his eyes. You aren’t sure how to describe it, but it makes your heart flutter. Jolts of pleasure still radiate from your core every few moments, your body not yet ready to let the sensations of your coupling fade. Not ready to let go of this blissful, utopian moment.

“You are just-” He takes a breath, struggling for the right words. You wait patiently, fingertips stroking his skin. “I-” He shakes his head and lowers it to kiss you, ever so gently. A mere brush of his lips, the stubble on his chin scratching against yours. And then, he takes your breath away completely. 

“I love you.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the inspiration for today's chapter:
> 
>   
> 


	13. Episode 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Cullen, this may just be the best vacation of your life.

He said it. _Maker’s breath, he really said it._

Every syllable dripping from his tongue like so much honey, slow and smooth, the timbre of his voice wrapping around your heart and squeezing. The air rushes from your lungs. His eyes are honest, painfully vulnerable. Heat blooms within your chest, softly caressing outward as the shock vibrates down your spine, drawing gooseflesh in its wake. It feels like minutes have passed; you laying pressed beneath his weight, absorbing the magnitude of the moment, but it’s been mere seconds. He loves you. _He loves you._

You whisper, hoarse and trembling, “Oh, Cullen…” Fingertips dancing over his rough cheek, tears spilling freely from the corners of your eyes, you sigh. “You’re brilliant and sweet, generous, and kind. Not to mention _gorgeous_. You are the best person I know, and I think about you all the bloody time. I don’t just love you… _I’m_ _in love with you_.”

The dam bursts. His eyes widen, the flush upon his skin deepens, and you watch as relief relaxes his shoulders, letting him sink even closer. The grin that stretches across his lips is almost ridiculously goofy. Like a little boy on Satinalia morning, wide and bright-eyed, close to a fit of giggles. 

And when he kisses you, it’s not just passion on his lips but the full force of his heart, his love, and longing, all the brief moments and memories gone by that he’s desperately wanted to say those words but didn’t. You taste them on the tip of his tongue, licking along the seam of your lips, on the salt and sweat of his skin. You feel it in the steel of his muscles beneath your palms as you hold him close, in the sheer weight of him settled there between your thighs. In the twitch of his cock, somehow freshly stirring.

He kisses you until you’re both gasping between giggles, forehead pressed to forehead, arms wrapped tightly around each other. “I have never felt anything like this,” he murmurs. “ _I’m_ _in love with you_ , and I’ve never been so happy.” 

You want to carve out this moment, build a monument to it in your memory. Hold on to it forever.

“Cullen…” Your hips roll involuntarily upward as you feel him stirring again. He responds in kind, slowly and steadily rocking, his breath coming in stilted, aroused pants. He whispers your name, nuzzles your cheek, tenderly kisses down your jaw and neck. 

This time, when he makes love to you, it’s gentle and sweet. He takes his time, draws it out for what seems like hours, kissing and holding you, his thrusts agonizingly slow and it feels so, so good. He makes you feel more loved than you ever have. More precious than any treasure in Thedas. 

After you’ve both found release, he rises and carries you, ever so gently, over the threshold to the bedroom. Lays you on the bed and climbs in beside you, tucking the duvet around you both, and draws you close to his chest. His powerful arm wraps over yours where it's held across your heart. Your pulse slows, the blissful haze of love and satisfaction settling deep into your bones like a brand. 

In his arms, you’re whole. Safe, warm, and secure, you drift into the Fade with a final sigh on your tongue. “I love you, Cullen.”

~

The following week passes in a blur, the two of you unable to keep your hands off each other beyond service to normal bodily functions and meals. But on the last day of this exquisite vacation, you rise groggily from the bed, patting the space beside you to find it strangely empty.

“Cullen?” 

Instead of your lover to greet you, Andy gallops into the room and delivers sloppy, wet kisses to your dangling feet. “Andy! Stop it, that’s disgusting!” You giggle despite the grossness, nudging her away with your knee so you can stand. “Go on,” you command, “go find Daddy.”

She cocks her head and obediently trots out of the room while you grab Cullen’s shirt from the night before off the ottoman. After slipping it over your head, you follow her and the snap-crackle of oil in a hot pan, the smell of bacon wafting through the air. 

Cullen stands at the stove, his back to you, barefoot and dressed only in his tight, black boxer-briefs. You pause for a moment, watching his sculpted rear as his weight shifts, the muscles along his back rippling with each movement. Savoring the view, you lean your elbows on the counter, face cupped in your palms, fondness on the curves of your lips.

“Mmm, that looks _delicious_.”

He doesn’t even flinch! How is he so impossible to sneak up on? Instead, he chuckles brightly, casting you a sly smirk over his shoulder. “The food, or is there something else whetting your appetite?”

“You know me too well.” You sigh, hands dropping to trace along the countertop as you drift toward him. Your arms encircle his trim waist, chest and cheek pressing to his strong back. A soft moan escapes him as your wandering fingers flutter over his abdomen and dip past his waistband. You cup him through the cloth, careful but teasing, feeling his twitch of interest.

“That…” He pauses, swallowing hard. “That may have to wait until later, love.” He nearly chokes on the words, they’re so difficult to say, but clearly whatever feast he has planned this morning is important to him so you relax and back away. 

You find an empty place on the counter beside him and hop up, playfully swinging your legs as you scan the stove. He’s got the bacon out of the pan already, cooling on a plate with a paper towel to soak up the excess grease. On the back burner, an omelet cooks, and on the front, he’s watching the raw side of a pancake slowly bubble. Cullen hums thoughtfully and takes the panhandle, lifting it a few inches away from the heat. With a deft flick of his wrist, he flips the pancake, and it lands perfectly in the center. You laugh delightedly, charmed by both his skill and the smug grin on his face. Cocky shit. 

Glancing over at the carved wood dining table, you notice fresh, sliced fruit garnishing the already-set plates. Coffee mugs and glasses sit waiting, the cream, sugar, butter, and syrup in the center of the table beside a glass decanter filled with juice. 

All week long, you’d spoiled one another, alternating cooking meals both for each other and together, but never anything so large or thought-out. Mostly because you were both too impatient to get through them and rip clothes off again - on the rare occasions you were wearing any. But for this one, it seems he is going all out. Perhaps because it’s the last morning at the cabin? A nagging feeling lingers at the back of your mind, however. Like you’ve forgotten something.

“What’s the occasion?” you ask, eyes meandering back to him.

He stiffens slightly, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. The tell-tale rub of his neck completely gives him away; something’s definitely up. “Ah, nothing. I just wanted… um, this last day to be special. You know. Memorable.”

You laugh. “Cullen, this entire week has been memorable. I’ll treasure every moment for the rest of my life, I can promise you that.”

“The rest of your life,” he mumbles, struggling to hide a grin. Something in his posture changes, a certain surety setting into the curve of his shoulders. Boldly, he announces, “Good.” He slides the now perfectly fluffy pancake onto a plate and starts another. “And I hope today will be no exception.”

Warmth blooms beneath the collar of your shirt - well, his shirt, technically - at his authoritative, confident tone. Slipping from the counter, you sneak a pat on his arse on the way to the sink to make a start on the impressive stack of plates, bowls, and chopping boards. “Maker, Cullen. Have you been trying to feed an army in here?” 

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “No, just us. But I thought we could have a picnic later today, as well.” He gestures over to a medium-sized basket by the door.

“That sounds wonderful,” you say, briskly scrubbing the dishes. “But you should have let me help.”

“You are helping,” he counters, playfully nudging your hip with his.

You fall into a comfortable silence while you work. It’s grounding, domestic, and a feeling you could certainly get used to. Over the last couple of months, you’ve spent more and more time at each other’s apartments. Weekends, holidays; every free moment you could get. Cullen even took it upon himself to rework his schedule, aligning his off days with yours. But now, after having spent an entire week together uninterrupted and the confessions of your love, the spark of hopeful bliss within your heart from the time you became “official” has grown like wildfire. 

The memory fresh in your mind, a tender smile crosses your lips as you wash the last plate and steal a glance at the beautiful man working beside you. You set the plate on the drying rack and wipe your hands. “So will we just be having a picnic on the lawn or did you have somewhere else in mind?” you ask, taking a seat at the table and pouring out coffee and juice for the both of you.

“Hmm, perhaps...” He retrieves a strip of bacon from the plate and sneaks a bite when he thinks you aren’t looking.

“Hey!”

“What?” He grins mischievously and drops the other half of the rasher into Andy’s happy jaws. “It’s a perk of playing chef. And Andy has been a good assistant. Haven’t you, girl?”

“Woof!”

You laugh at their shenanigans, but only need to wait a few moments more before a tempting breakfast is set before you. Light golden pancakes sprinkled with powdered sugar, stacks of crisp salty bacon, perfectly cooked omelets, and delicious strawberries, blueberries, and banana slices. 

_Cullen really did go all out!_

Stomach grumbling, you eagerly snatch up the maple syrup and drizzle a generous helping of the sticky topping over your plate. “This smells divine! I’ll confess, I’m a little relieved I wasn’t able to tempt you back to bed.” Diving into your feast, you find it tastes even better than it looks, the salty-sweet flavors exploding on your tongue. You can’t help but groan in appreciation. “Mmmm, I hadn’t realized how famished I was!”

“Well you were quite energetic last night,” Cullen says with a blush, sipping his coffee. “It’s important to replace those calories after such um, _strenuous exercise_.”

You shrug, smirking at his innuendo, and devour another bite. Licking the syrup from your lips, you tease back, “What can I say, you look so good under me.”

Cullen sputters at your bold statement, nearly spitting out his drink, but recovers quickly. “Still, as your personal trainer, I’ve been far too soft on you this week. So after we’ve eaten, I think a nice hike ought to do the trick.”

“Darling, you haven’t been soft all week!” You chortle. “But please, define ‘nice’?”

He grins, despite the darkening flush painting his cheeks. “Ten miles.”

“But-” You look longingly toward the bedroom, then turn back to him, batting your eyelashes.

Chuckling, he replies, “I promise, the view will be worth it.” Andy, faithful pup that she is, sits by your leg and fixes you with large pleading eyes.

“Okay, okay. As if I can say no to you.” You give Andy’s head a scratch and look up to see Cullen watching you with a grateful smile. “Or you.”

~

Nearing the summit, you pant, “When you said ten miles, you didn’t specify it would be uphill!”

“It’s only five miles uphill, and just think how easy it will be on the way back!” Cullen teases ahead of you, your answering groan making him chuckle. “Just a little further love, I promise it will be worth it.” 

He takes your hand to help you up over a small boulder, giving it a doting squeeze and then keeping a gentle hold as you walk on. Distracted from your surroundings, you glance shyly at him. He looks so at peace here, the warm breeze rustling his golden waves free of their usually crisp style. The long week of lazy walks had given him a sun-kissed tan and an easy-going bearing. 

A hazy serenity washes over your skin, like the joy of sinking into a luxurious hot spring, or the satiating cool of a dip in the ocean on a hot summer’s day. An all-encompassing euphoria winding through your nerves, burrowing deep to make a home in your heart until it’s full near to bursting. You could spend a lifetime here, just watching this man with one hand held to his brow, blocking the sun as he absorbs the scenery. Despite all the surrounding nature, you think, _nothing could possibly be more beautiful than him_. _This beautiful, kind, intoxicating man…_

And he _loves you._

“We’re here!” Cullen exclaims and points to the view. 

“Wow,” you gasp in awe. Above you, a small waterfall tumbles down a brilliant limestone cliff creating a miniature rainbow in the morning sun. At its base, a lake has been naturally carved into the hillside, the reflections on the rippling water dazzling. The water itself is so clear you can see the bottom, and all around is lush foliage in every shade of green, dotted with blossoms and sprigs of wildflowers. The quiet rumble of the waterfall is offset by the tweeting of birds and the soft rustle of the wind in the canopy above.

You sigh happily. “It’s magnificent.” Turning, you see Cullen has set out a couple of blankets, one with the picnic basket and another under a tree, which Andy immediately claims as her own, lolloping over and promptly falling asleep.

A mischievous idea creeps into your mind. The sun is only getting hotter, and you still haven’t quite forgotten the sight of Cullen half-naked earlier. Perhaps you can tempt him into that state again… or even better, no clothing at all.

“It’s still a little early for lunch,” you remark, an impish lilt in your tone. “Care for a swim?” 

“Oh…” A crestfallen look passes over his handsome face. “I didn’t think to bring any swimwear.” With a coy smirk, you pull the hem of your tank up and drop the garment lazily to the ground. “Wha- what are you-” he sputters.

Walking toward the water, you toe off your shoes. “Don’t let that stop you.” With a wink over your shoulder, you offer him what you hope is an enticing view. Peeling your leggings down over your arse, you bend at the waist, back arched, and _slowly_ slide the tight material down your legs. His breath audibly hitches at the sight of your now near-naked form as you unclasp your front closing bra. Finally, at the water’s edge, you step out of your panties and, with a girlish giggle, run forward, splashing up cooling droplets as you go.

Your nipples instantly stiffen as the crisp, cool water reaches your chest. After a quick dunk to wet your hair, you swim out until your feet no longer touch the bottom, turning just in time to ogle as Cullen is absentmindedly discarding his boxer-briefs. His keenness to reach you is glaringly obvious, you note with no small amount of satisfaction. His already half-hard cock sways hypnotically from side-to-side as he prowls into the shallows towards you, sending a white-hot spark of pure, unabashed _want_ straight to your cunt.

You wait patiently for him to reach you, treading water until he’s almost close enough to touch. But as much as you want him now, _right fucking now_ , you can’t help but torture him just a little longer. Make him work for it. So before he can draw you into his arms, you disappear beneath the surface and swim away from him for as long as your lungs allow, popping back up a good few meters away.

“Catch me if you can,” you issue your challenge, diving below the surface again to swim off in a different direction. 

But he’s somehow closer when you come up for air. How is the man always so quick! “What do I get when I do?” he cockily retorts, a smug grin on his face as though he’s already deemed your capture inevitable.

You sultrily narrow your eyes, responding with a breathy, “Anything you like, love,” before disappearing again. When you break the surface you scream as his arms wrap around you from behind. You are soon silenced, however, by the press of his hard cock against the swell of your bottom. 

His breath is hot against your ear as he holds you close. “ _Caught you._ ” 

Heart clamoring wildly beneath your breast, you slip a hand between your bodies, coaxing a growl from his throat as you wrap your fingers around the length of him and gently _squeeze_. He captures your earlobe between his teeth, the gravelly rumble in his throat sending shivers down your spine. 

All patience gone, he spins you to face him. “I want to taste you” he growls, the look in his eyes so utterly wanton it makes you _throb_ in places longing to be touched. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he engages you in a heated kiss. Your body is vibrating with need, every point of contact burning despite the brisk water. The eager intensity of his touch leaves you moaning into his mouth, rolling your hips in desperation. He never stops kissing you as he wades toward the shore, and you don’t let go until you reach the blanket on the grass.

He sets you down on your feet and, with a dreamy smile that mirrors your own, tells you again, “I love you.” 

The response comes so naturally to you now, as though you’d been saying it for a lifetime. “I love you, too.” 

You’d been wanting to say it for so long, and never imagined he’d feel the same so soon. How wrong you’d been! You’ve both repeated those three little words a thousand times since that first night, but the accompanying gleeful giddiness had yet to diminish, and you don’t imagine it ever will. Like a flower slowly blooming, each utterance is another petal opening to reveal your heart. To let him in, and pray to the Maker he stays. The heat in his amber eyes, a sultry layer belying the tenderness beneath, tells you he will.

He kisses you hard, leaving you breathless, lips tender and swollen, head spinning. When he breaks for air, he takes you by the hand and guides you to your knees.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Cullen protests as you attempt to lie down. Instead, he stretches out behind you and works his head between your open thighs.

“ _Oh_.” A bolt of excitement shoots through your body as the realization hits. You look down into his eyes, the pupils blown so wide only a ring of color remains, and run your fingers through his wet curls. 

You slowly lower yourself onto his waiting tongue. Impatient and needy, he grips your buttocks and starts with a few gentle strokes. But when he pulls you more firmly onto his face, his mouth forms a tight seal around your clit and he _sucks_.

“Ah!” you cry out as he stimulates that tiny little bundle of nerves he’s so fantastically familiar with. 

If finding the clit were a competitive sport this Adonis would win gold _every damn time_. 

And from the heavenly sounds he’s making, you’d swear he enjoys this just as much as you do. You can’t resist the urge to look over your shoulder, curious as to the condition of his cock. A moan escapes your lips when you see he’s stroking himself, hips rising enthusiastically as he essentially fucks his fist.

Your movements steadily pick up speed as he alternates between licking and sucking until you’re panting and keening his name. With one hand still glued to your ass, he abandons his cock to blindly reach for your breast. He instinctively finds it, savoring the feel of it against his palm before rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

That tiny little pinch of pain finally pushes you over the edge, the evidence of your arousal gushing onto his blessed tongue. He greedily laps it up as you twitch with the aftershocks, slowly loosening your grip on his hair. You struggle to regain control of your breathing, drawing in long, lusty gulps of air. Maker, the things this man can do to you!

In your post-climax haze, he wiggles out from between your spread and quivering legs, repositioning himself behind you. He trails kisses down your spine, soothing and sweet, steadily coaxing you to bend over. With your hands on the ground, he guides himself into your welcoming warmth, filling you with an exquisite slowness until he bottoms out with a loud, libidinous groan.

Cullen drapes himself over your back, brushing your hair over one shoulder. He kisses the other with a languid roll of his hips that make your jaw fall open and your head hang down. You push back against him, fisting the grass between your fingers as he whispers sweet nothings into your damp skin, his lips softly skimming the supple flesh. 

“You. Are. Stunning,” he purrs, that delicious low rumble reverberating against your back. His soft words are a sharp contrast to the hard wall of muscle behind you.

You gasp and glance over your shoulder. With a searing kiss, he thrusts into you, sinking in deep and hard. His thick fingers circle your throat, just enough to keep you where he wants you as he explores your mouth, tongue mimicking the rhythm of his rolling hips. You taste yourself on him, feel the muscles of his thighs and core against your backside, the pulse of his cock as his arousal heightens. Each thrust is a little faster and a little harder but _so_ much more divine. 

He coaxes another moan out of you when his hand slides from the slim column of your neck to your breast, teasing the nipple with calloused fingers. But suddenly, it’s not enough. You want to see him, to see his eyes as he fucks you, to watch him groan and gasp his pleasure, to memorize every inch of his golden skin under the beautiful clear sky above. 

“Stop,” you gasp, rocking back into him. “I want to ride you. Please, love.” 

His hips snap forward with an enthusiastic grunt. Apparently, he likes that idea. “As you wish,” he whispers lustily in your ear. He withdraws, reluctant to leave your warmth but all too eager to please, and you turn to find him already settling onto his back. “You know, I could have just stayed like this,” he teases as you straddle him. 

“What would be the fun in that?” you ask, grinning. His hand grips the base of his cock, holding it steady while you sink over him. “If we’re going to try every position we’d better get going. We don’t have a lot of time.” 

His fingers dig into your hips as you start to ride him. “We have all the time in the world,” he breathes out, voice raspy. “A whole lifetime.” 

“Exactly,” you get out on the back of a moan. “Not nearly enough time.” 

You rock your hips to feel his thick cock shift inside of you. Maker, he fills you so _perfectly_. His large hands drift up your sides, cupping your breasts and massaging with expert fingers. Pleasure surges through you, hot and bright, as every bounce on his thighs brings him to that place deep within that makes your toes curl and breath stop. Rising and falling, rising and falling, and you’re so close!

“I’m going to come again,” you whine, squeezing his hips between your knees. “I can’t help it.” You want this to last longer. To last forever. You tangle your hand in your hair, bracing the other against his hard stomach, and look out over the beautiful landscape in front of you. It’s magnificent but not nearly as amazing as the view below you. 

Cullen is looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Those amber eyes burn with adoration and awe. They touch your very soul, hold it, and whisper songs of eternity. “Don’t apologize, and don’t stop,” he grunts, gripping your hips again. He urges you to rock forward and back, licking his lips and bringing attention to that scar you adore so much. 

Gripping one of his wrists, your other hand snakes between your legs. The tips of your fingers feel out your joining, slick and hard and soft all at the same time. He seems to like your exploration, raising his hips to bury himself deeper into you. 

“I’m close, love! Right there, just like that!” Your fingers draw back to tease your clit and with a cry of ecstasy, you find your release.

Inner walls clenching hard, body shuddering, you relax into his control. He capitalizes on the moment, thrusting erratically up into you as you continue to quiver and spasm around him. He surges up when you feel his cock twitch, and shouts as he comes. Wrapping his arms around you, Cullen holds you crushingly close. 

Burying your face against his neck, you hold him just as tight as your bodies continue to vibrate with pleasure. He tells you he loves you again and again, and though you can’t respond, you _know_ he knows. 

You can’t smell the fresh air, crushed grass, or the mist of the waterfall. Just him. You won’t have many chances to enjoy this place, but you still can’t help but give this man, your _love_ , your complete attention.

You feel like he speaks again quickly, but your brain tells you it’s actually been a while. “I have a present for you,” he murmurs in your ear, his hand sliding over your hair. 

“Hmm?” you hum contentedly, lifting your head. “Is this another perk of the last day of vacation?” Could you possibly pack any more surprises into one week? 

“Not exactly.” His hands move under your backside, and he shifts you to the side. Rising to his knees, he pulls you into his arms and then stands. The undeniable show of strength makes goosebumps rise on your skin. He lowers you to the blanket and lays on his side next to you, then reaches out to rifle through the pocket of his pants. His eyes watch your reaction as he holds out a small, thin box, wrapped in matte black paper with silver paw prints on it. “Happy birthday. Andy picked out the paper.” 

He rests his head on his hand, looking up at you. You take the present gingerly, the realization rolling over you like a fog slowly lifting. “My birthday?” _How did you forget your own birthday?_ “How did you know?” you ask in wonder, turning the box over in your hands. 

“I technically broke the law,” he admits with a cheeky grin, the back of his fingers brushing up and down your thigh. “It was the third thing you filled out on your gym application, after your name and address.”

“Look at you, the criminal mastermind,” you tease, slowly ripping the paper. “If I were the police, I’d have to take you in...”

There’s a flash of intrigue behind his eyes, a slight dilation of his pupils that tells you he very much likes that idea. Neither of you has done anything so kinky as roleplay before, but hey, as you’d agreed earlier you have a lifetime of new things, and positions, to try ahead of you.

“Oh really?” he says, quirking an eyebrow. “Hmm, I may have to pay another visit to that toy website.”

You tear another corner of the paper, a giggle on the tip of your tongue. “Did they have fuzzy pink cuffs?”

The continuous crinkling seems to have woken Andy, even though she astoundingly slept through your entire noisy session. She’s suddenly sitting beside you, tail wagging furiously and eyes locked onto the paper. You unwrap it completely and press it all into a ball, tossing it for her to pounce and rip into pieces. 

While she’s distracted, you carefully pull off the lid of the box. Nestled in black tissue is a plain key. “Is this to-” Your eyes snap up before you can finish the sentence.

“My place. Yes, it is. When I had it made-” He shakes his head and sits up to face you as well, rubbing the back of his neck. “When I had it made I knew I wanted you to be able to come and go as you pleased.” 

You frown slightly. He won’t meet your eyes. “Have you changed your mind?” you ask, a little breathless. A slow, creeping tinge of worry settles in the pit of your stomach.

“I have.” He finally looks at you, and your fears instantly melt away. Whatever he’s changed his mind to, it isn’t bad. “At first, I was hoping you would add it to your keychain.” 

“And now?” you ask, your heart and the butterflies in your stomach fluttering in sync.

Cullen reaches out to rest his hand on your cheek, soft and reassuring. “I’ve gotten used to waking up with you every morning. Andy clearly loves having you around. I-” He sighs and you can see that he’s nervous in the pinkness of his cheeks. “Now, I’m hoping you will replace your key with this one.” 

You're so stunned you can hardly breathe. Instead of a million thoughts racing through your mind, everything stops, comes to a gloriously clear blank with just one resounding, hopeful question playing on repeat. And if he’s saying what you think he is, you already know your answer. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” 

“If you want to,” he says quickly. Then his words devolve into an adorable nervous ramble. “I-I never thought you would love me too. I mean, I hoped! But… with what I’ve been through… Now that I know you do, that changes everything. I know it hasn’t been as long as socially acceptable, but I don’t want to go back to waking up without you. Or coming home without you. I meant what I said. I hate taking you home. I don’t want to have to do that anymore.”

Your heart _swells_. You grip the key in your hand before launching yourself forward, knocking him back on the blanket with you over him. “Yes!” you cry over and over again, peppering kisses all over his face. His laugh rumbles through you and his arms warm you. 

When this is all over, _you’ll both be going home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me when I say, we are all squeeing with you. And we all have the lovely, brilliant Jacklyn Flynn to thank for today's epic conclusion! 
> 
> Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy out there, and that we're able to bring you a bit of joy with what we're calling our Mega Fluff, hahaha 
> 
> \- kittimau ^_^


	14. Episode 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A misunderstanding takes you and Cullen back to the gym for a much-needed release of tension.
> 
> CW:  
> Rough sex, angry make-up sex, sparring  
> All completely consensual!

“Please wait!” Cullen says as you turn to walk straight back out the door of the gym's boxing studio. Against your better judgment, you hover by the entrance. You knew it seemed a little too quiet even for the final class of the day.

Things had been going so well since you moved into his apartment a couple of months ago. You were both looking forward to Mia’s wedding and had shared a few more tentative but hopeful conversations about your own future together. He was sweet, attentive, and caring and for this first time in your life, you had allowed yourself to hope that maybe he was the one.

That was two days ago.

“You wouldn’t answer my calls,” he mumbles feebly from his position by the foot of the ring, not daring to approach closer.

“That’s because I’m angry and if I had talked to you, I would have just shouted,” you reply in a clipped tone.

“You could have-” He sighs. “That is, I’d rather that than to not hear from you at all. I’m sorry I froze when you put me on the spot, but you are equal parts terrifying and beautiful when you’re angry.”

With a scoff at his unexpected flattery, you turn and see the hopeful look in his eyes. His hand is up by his neck, and he looks tired and worried. You had both allowed this to go on for too long and if this was him trying to reach out with an olive branch, then you would grasp it.

“You know this is a definite misuse of your power as the gym owner,” you say with a tut as you gesture around the vacant room. “I know. Last time I promise” he says solemnly, his eyes widening when you bolt the boxing gym door and saunter towards him. You see him gulp as you square up to him, staring him down.

“Get in the ring,” you say decisively.

His brow furrows in confusion. “Can’t we talk?”

“I came here for a boxing lesson, so let’s box!” You say nonchalantly, strapping the Velcro of your training gloves across your wrists. Cullen ever the gentleman clambers up onto the side of the ring first and parts the ropes, allowing you to enter with ease. He follows and adorns his own gloves, asking as he does so. “Head guards?”

You offer a compromise, “No head-shots."

Satisfied for your safety Cullen is now all professionalism. “Okay let’s start with some simple one-twos HEY!” Cullen yelps as you throw a barrage of quick punches at his open palms causing him to take a defensive step back.

“I am not a novice,” you snap before furiously striking his raised arms once again. As your flurry ceases Cullen huffs.

“Clearly, but I have no intention of sparring with yo - oof-”

It’s not hard, but the low blow delivered to his abdomen is enough to stop his patronizing response. It’s a bit of a cheap shot, you both know it. But it doesn’t stop the smug grin from creeping onto your face as he shoots a confused scowl accompanied by a broken wheeze your way.

“Then don’t spar,” you say with a shrug, readying your arms and settling back into your boxing stance. “But I came here to work out some stress so unless you want to be a punching bag I suggest you defend yourself!” 

His eyes darken as he stares at you. You see how his gaze trails over your aggressive and unrepentant poise. He knows your body intimately, there is no doubt he can see the tension in your shoulders and the coiled anger still needing its outlet. Finally, your eyes meet, and understanding flashes in his eyes. 

There is a beat, two, three and you feel a flush of heat spread across your skin as a dangerous smirk pulls at his scarred lip.

“Alright then.” He straightens, tilts his neck to one side then the other, and loosens his arms with a shake. “Show me what you’ve got.” You grin at his confidence and, feeling lighter than you have in days, launch forward.

As you try a left hook, he defends with a raised arm, your quick jabs he dodges with ease or parries with his own setting you on the defensive. Panting, you circle each other, meeting for a quick exchange before stepping back to calculate your next assault. It’s exhilarating as you watch his eyes and body language intently, a game of chess, but you are the only pieces as you dance around each other. Testing your reflexes and trying to predict each other’s next strategy. Cullen never hits your body, but that doesn’t stop him from testing your defenses when he can.

After five minutes you sense a pattern and realize he is leaving himself open on purpose. Whether out of chivalry or because he sees your need to unload you can’t be sure. However noble his reasons, it doesn’t stop you taking advantage, grazing blows to his arms and shoulders and occasionally landing a hit to his ribs.

With each circling flurry of attacks, your anger ebbs. With each huff of exertion, your fury cools replaced instead by a novel sensation boiling your blood. Cullen is agile, deft, and precise, and still without a doubt the man you love. You find yourself distracted by his hair as it curls from the perspiration and admire the attractive sheen that coats his arms and dips below the neckline of his training shirt. Your lack of concentration shows and Cullen side-steps around you, clamping his arms firmly from behind in a fierce bear hug. You feel the air whoosh from your lips as it’s forced from your lungs. The pressure around your chest is dizzying but strangely gratifying as you feel your body cleaved to his hard planes. Grounded and protected and encompassed by him and his raw strength.

“Are you ready to call this a draw?” he murmurs against your ear. The little fissions of pleasure it causes blindside you, causing you to snarl and snap free of his grip.

“Not a chance!” you shout, spinning with a right hook aimed straight for his abdomen. Somehow he is quicker than you and doges the strike. Missing your target is costly and the unspent momentum causes you to stumble and trip backward. 

In an instant, he is on you. His arms caging your own and his strong body crowding over yours, pinning you against the ropes which dig uncomfortably into your back. He leans in closer and you feel your breath hitch at his nearness, your breaths mingling as you stare each other down.

“I know you are still angry with me,” he whispers against your ear, sending shivers across your body. “You have every right to be.” He ghosts his lips across your throat causing you to gasp and betraying your genuine desire to not only reconcile but to make up for the two days you have spent apart. Despite his superior strength, he is being so soft, so gentle as he holds you close to him. You stifle a whimper as he nuzzles at your sensitive neck, his tongue flicking out to draw long languid paths over your electrified skin. Unconsciously your head tilts back, offering more of yourself up for his humble yet ravenous exploration of your body.

“But please, please let me make it up to you,” he begs. You moan as he shifts his weight. His knee slides between your legs to part them and his muscled thigh now presses against your suddenly aching apex. “Let me show you how repentant I am.”

You’re certain he can feel the heat radiating from your core at the mere feel of him, even separated by several layers of fabric as you are. It would be so easy to just lean into his touch, to roll your pelvis, and create the friction you’d gone without for what felt more like two months than two days. But you somehow manage to resist. 

You swallow hard and, looking into his ever-darkening gaze, whisper, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

He releases you instantly and takes a few wobbly steps backward, the crestfallen look on his face a clear indication he’d misunderstood. Or, just as likely, you hadn’t made yourself clear, which had been a recurring theme over the last two days.

You sigh, tiredly. That he could even think you meant the relationship makes you feel as though your heart is breaking in two, and that was exactly why you were so angry with him. “I meant the sparring,” you quickly clarify, unable to bear the sight of his forlorn expression for a second longer. 

Before you can even blink he’s on you, pulling you into a kiss unbridled with raw emotion. But you’re still annoyed with him and so can’t help biting his bottom lip just a little too hard.

“Ouch,” he hisses, pulling away just enough to give you a questioning look. One that also somehow is so intense, you feel instantly wet. 

Maintaining your brooding demeanor, you reply with a clipped, “doesn’t mean I’m ready for that,” when really all you want to do is jump on him.

Honestly, the last two days felt like torture. Cullen had even relegated himself to sleeping on the couch, knowing you were so upset by his well-intended but wholly unwelcome suggestion. At least Andy had enjoyed all the extra-long walks you’d both been taking her on - separately, of course - just to escape the horribly tense atmosphere of being alone together.

Cullen opens his mouth to speak but hesitates in favor of first pulling off his gloves. He lifts a hand to your face, tucking a sweat-slicked strand of hair behind your ear and all you can do is stare breathlessly at his unfairly handsome face. “I love you,” he says with such conviction that it almost makes you tremble.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, completely incapable of not telling him the same. “I love you, too.” You open your eyes to fix him with a hard stare. “I don’t think you realize just how much.”

He touches his forehead to yours, exhaling a long relieved breath through his nose as he cautiously moves to remove your gloves. 

You allow it in your desperation to feel his skin against your palm, and before your second glove even hits the floor of the boxing ring you surge. You wind your fingers into the damp curls at the back of his neck and kiss him with such ferocity that you end up once again pinned to the ropes. But even in your aroused state, you can’t just forget your anger. You dig your fingers into his biceps and spin him, flipping your positions and pushing him back against the ropes. Your hand trails down the hard planes of his abdominals, its destination the solid bulge between his legs.

Cullen growls in response and spins you again, though instead of your back hitting the ropes this time it’s your front. You reach up and back to grab a handful of his blond curls as he peppers your neck with open-mouthed kisses, biting your lip when the hand that isn’t clutching your breast snakes it’s way beneath your waistband.

You press your lips together to hold in a shout when one of his large fingers glides over your clit before he cups you in his palm, pulling you back to press his crotch more firmly against your rear. You feel his frustratingly still fingertips just shy of your entrance and aggressively begin rolling your hips in a bid to get him to bloody use them already.

When he pulls his hand away completely, you protest, though the grumble of disagreement quickly morphs into a shriek of surprise when he falls to his knees and pulls your leggings down with him. You unconsciously widen your stance and lean forwards to allow him better access, giving a low moan of delight as the broad stroke of his tongue caresses you from clit to arsehole.

You push back against him, resting your head on your hand as it grips the ropes with white knuckles. You can’t keep back the gasp at the pleasure he brings you. As you start to settle into his ministrations, you remember your anger. He absolutely cannot have the upper hand. 

You pull your hips forward and away from his mouth reluctantly. Turning before he can react you roughly shove his shoulders. He falls back against the unyielding floor of the ring watches you with unabashed lust as you quickly peel off your leggings. Cullen starts to sit up but you push against his chest with your foot. Straddling him, you sink to your knees, sitting against his hard stomach. 

His nose and chin glisten with your slick. “Do you understand why I’m angry?” you ask, peeling off your shirt and sports bra so that he can watch your chest heave with your heavy breathing. Lifting your hips enough to tug up his shirt, you watch with hungry eyes as every inch of skin, every ridge of hard muscle is revealed to you. 

“Because I’m making you choose between me and your dream job.”

You’re busy ogling his body, but you can feel his eyes on your face. “You are my dream, idiot.”

You lean over him, capturing his mouth again for a furious kiss. Cullen’s hands slide to the swell of your arse, gripping tightly as he throws your weight to the side so that he can roll on top of you. One hand slides down your thigh, urging you to wrap your leg around him. The canvas of the ring is rough against your back but you don’t give a wit about it. 

His mouth attacks your neck, purring against your damp skin. “I would die if you grew to resent me.” 

Your hand slides through his wet curls, using them to pull his head up so that you can look him in the eyes. “I didn’t apply for that job. I was offered it. I’ve already turned it down because I have no intention of leaving you. I love you. I thought you understood that. Other opportunities will come along. I’ll never find another you.” 

Something changes in his eyes and you’re sure it has finally clicked. “I don’t want you to leave. Ever.” His voice is low, desperate. It sounds like he’s confessing a mortal sin. That bitch before you really did a number on him. It’s almost like he doesn’t dare wish for a happy ending for himself. Like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. 

You tighten your leg around him, raising your hips to press against the bulge in his pants that must be painful by now. “Show me,” you demand, breathless. You take advantage of his distraction, pushing your knee into his side to push him over, rolling with him again. “Fuck me. Love me,” you murmur into his ear before sitting up again. 

“You’re still mad?” he asks, gripping your hips to rock them against his. You pull out of his grip to straddle his thighs, pulling down the band of his pants to free his cock. Wrapping one hand around his throbbing length, the other dips lower to tease his tight sacs. You start to pump him slowly, hoping that the pace is torture. You want him to positively ache for you. Yes, you’re still mad. Mad that you haven’t shown him that you can’t live without him. 

“Absolutely,” you respond finally, your thumb rubbing over the head of his cock. You relish the jerk of his hips as you tease the most sensitive part of him. “I think you can work it out of me though.” You grin as his head falls back with a thud and a groan is torn from his throat. 

While he isn’t looking, you shift your hips forward and with your hand still around him, guide him into you. His hands fly to your hips again as his back arches, his long moan lasting until you’ve taken every inch. 

He takes in a heaving breath and raises his head to look at you. Seeing the look in his eyes, you narrow your own. “Don’t you even think about it.” 

With his hands tight on your hips to keep himself sheathed within you, he flips you both back over again. You can’t help the squeal that comes out of you. He rolls his hips against you, pushing until you slide up slightly with the force of it. He begins to thrust into you, long deep strokes that make you moan and grip his arms tightly for purchase. His pace suggests that he is mad at you. 

“Cullen!” you cry, raking your nails down his back. He hisses in your ear and his back flexes beneath your fingers. His hand moves under you, wrapping a hand over your shoulder to prevent you from sliding further up the ring. 

There’s no fighting it, not anymore, and you find yourself caring less and less. All that pent up frustration from earlier is sinking into the mat beneath your back as he pounds out his devotion. You tighten your thighs around his hips, sinking him deeper, matching his pace. 

“Maker, you’re so tight, so perfect,” he growls possessively. “Touch yourself, love.”

You rock back against him as his thrusts grow erratic and wind a hand between your sweat-slicked bodies. It takes mere seconds to find your swollen clit. He pulls back just enough to watch as you apply pressure, and with the new angle, slams against the spot within you that makes you scream. Toes curling, fingers of your free hand digging into the flesh of his arse, you wail through your release, pulsing around him.

His thrusts slow, but barely, as you ride out the climax, until with a lustful groan, he follows suit. Cullen collapses on top of you but manages to prop some of the weight on his elbows beside your head. The scratch of his stubble caresses your neck, his soft lips pressing gently against your skin.

“I love you. I love you so much,” he whispers, panting. There’s no anger left in his tone, only desperation, a plea for you to understand and accept. And you do, without a doubt in your mind.

Your heart swells beneath your breast as you capture his lips, returning the tender kisses with equal passion. “I love you too.” You hold him close, skin to skin, letting more of his weight sink into you, unwilling to have the moment end. Your trembling fingers card reassuringly through his damp golden locks. “More than anything, Cullen. I’d never leave you.”

“I know.” He cups your face, tilting it to stare deeply into your eyes. This time, when he kisses you, it’s with all the delicacy and grace of a butterfly, balancing on the petal’s edge. He pours every ounce of his love into the gentle press of lips, the slow and careful lick of tongue against tongue. When you separate, his eyes crinkle around the edges, and tears linger unspilled around the glistening amber. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever.” 


	15. Episode 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a time of celebration for Mia and Rylen... but they aren't the only ones enjoying this day.
> 
> CW: Light, playful spanking

“I would like it noted for the record that I don’t like this,” Cullen grumbles, pulling up the zipper on the side of your dress. You look up at him and find his brows furrowed. You reach up to slide your finger between his brows and down the bridge of his nose. Moving your hand, you cup his cheek gently.

“Noted. I’ll only force you to help me dress when I can’t reach the zipper. And I promise I’ll save the unzipping of said zipper to you. Fair enough?” you ask, trying not to let the teasing show in your voice too much. 

“Fair enough,” he agrees with a smile and a warmth in his eyes that makes you want to jump his bones. 

You turn and look at yourself in the mirror, Cullen standing behind you. You’ve chosen a delicate dress in a dark crimson. The layers of tulle give it an airy and elegant look. It wraps around one shoulder and down your back in a sweep that makes it look as if it’s defying the laws of physics to stay up. The waist is tight and cinched with a ruched sash. The skirt flares out at your hips, giving you a classic hourglass figure. It falls just past your knees and flows around them as you walk. 

The classic black heels you’ve chosen lift your backside just so and make your legs look fabulous. The thin ribbon straps around the ankle give the entire look a bit of whimsy. 

“You look exquisite,” Cullen whispers in your ear before kissing your bare shoulder. You almost raise your hand but remember at the last moment that you can’t mess up his hair. Pity, that. Raising your shoulder slightly, you turn your head to brush your cheek affectionately against his temple. 

“You look like a dream,” you murmur in response, turning to face him. The traditional Free Marches wedding attire is a foreign look on him, but it works. The kilt particularly gives you wicked ideas for later in the evening. You understand now why he likes you in skirts and dresses. Easy access and ideal fuel for the imagination. The navy, evergreen and black pattern is oddly flattering on him when usually warmer tones suit him more. 

The jacket and vest accent his narrow waist and broad shoulders. Praise the Maker that you don’t have to torture yourself for hours wondering what he’s hiding beneath them. You are intimately familiar with every part of him now. Yet, you still can’t wait to explore him all over again. 

The chain of the sporran around his waist follows the v of his sex lines though you would be the only one to know that. The fly plaid pinned with a pewter brooch on his shoulder looks perfect, but his bow tie hasn’t been done up yet. You reach up to do so with feigned confidence, since you had to look this up last night. Trying not to acknowledge his eyes on your face, you concentrate on the motions. You adjust it in place and look up at him with a smile. “Perfect.” 

“Indeed,” he murmurs, capturing your chin between his bent finger and thumb. He tilts your face up and captures your lips in an achingly soft kiss. You feel his sigh when he pulls away and opens his eyes slowly. 

You both open your mouths and “I love you” comes tumbling out at the same time. The butterflies in your stomach are back at it again. He just looks so…

_Content._

With great difficulty, you step away. Cullen has the best man's duties to attend to, so sadly has to leave you to make your own way down to the ceremony. Thankfully, Claire had offered to meet up since Rosalie was also busy tending to Mia, so at least you don’t have to go it alone.

Claire looks so effortlessly cool in her skinny fit maroon suit with black lapels and perfectly polished brogues as you meet her by the elevator. The pleasant conversation flows easily as you make your way down to the bar for a quick drink before eventually taking your seats. 

Cullen is there already, laughing and joking with Rylen and the other groomsmen; Alistair, Delrin, and of course, Branson. They all look exceptionally handsome in their kilts, though none quite so good as your love, which is demonstrated perfectly by the sudden and erratic beat of your heart when he gives you a discreet wink.

You take a curious glance around the room, immediately spotting the drop-dead gorgeous redhead who you are certain must be Branson’s latest squeeze. He’s had a different girlfriend every time you’ve seen him, each impossibly more beautiful than the last.

When the music starts, the room falls silent and all heads turn towards the door as the bridesmaids begin filtering in, all wearing navy blue except for Rosalie who looks stunning in her evergreen dress, singling her out as maid of honour.

A combination of “ohs” and “aws” greet Mia when she finally emerges… with Bogbean, their loyal mabari, by her side. He’s wearing a bow tie in the same striking tartan as the kilts and looks adorably pleased with himself.

Mia is the epitome of elegance in her floor-length gown; lace capped sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, fitted bodice and loose flowing skirt. The back is just as striking you notice as she walks past your row; cut low and bordered with the same delicate lace as her sleeves.

Rylen can’t seem to contain his excitement when Mia finally reaches him, stealing a passionate kiss which only stops when Cullen coughs into his fist. Throughout the vows, Rylen’s ridiculously smug grin never fades. They are the absolute perfect example of a happy couple, and you can’t help but imagine yourself in their shoes.

Your mind drifts to what yours and Cullen’s wedding might look like. You picture the look on his face when he sees you for the first time wearing your dream dress. Would he be able to resist taking you in his arms? Would he cry? Maker, if he did you know you would too.

Cullen’s standing beside his best friend and soon to be brother-in-law, and at the same moment you look at him, he tears his proud gaze from his older sister and looks back at you. He gives a knowing smirk, the incredibly sexy one that overwhelms and arouses you. Blushing, you wonder just how accurately he’s able to interpret the wistful look on your face. But before you turn away, he mouths the words “I love you”, successfully deepening your blush before you refocus your attention on the bride and groom.

You spend the rest of the ceremony trying and failing not to look at him. Though he doesn’t seem to be trying at all, each heated glance a wordless promise for the pleasure he intends to inflict on you later. Perhaps there will be a brief moment after the ceremony when you can hike up his kilt and take him in your mouth, or maybe hike up both of your skirts and have him fuck you against a wall. Your room is only three floors up, but with the steadily increasing throbbing between your thighs, it’s highly unlikely you’d make it even that far.

You laugh into your hand when Rylen elbows his best man, who had apparently missed his cue to hand over the rings. Cullen chances another glance at you once his duty is complete, and the dark look in his captivating eyes makes you shudder. He intends to punish you for being such a distraction… and you can’t wait.

Before long, the ceremony is over and you’re whisked away to take photos with the family. First up are Mia and Rylen, who start off romantic and quickly turn silly as Rylen uses the opportunity for some teasing fun. At least three of the photos will show a peek of his arse, and in yet another he’d convinced Mia to show off the lace garter around her leg, which he audibly declares his excitement to remove very soon. Several more reveal him whispering what you imagine being extremely naughty things in the poor woman’s ear, if her ever-darkening blush is anything to go by. 

And Cullen, while he’s laughed through most of the antics, has become increasingly uncomfortable. As much as he approves of his best friend and sister’s relationship, he still doesn’t want to think about the intimate aspects of it. So you decide a distraction is in order, something to take his mind off the amorous future activities of the blissful newlyweds and put it squarely back on your own. 

It’s his turn for the portraits now, so he takes your hand and guides you into position in front of the photographer. You steel your nerves by focusing all of your attention on him, the scent of his cologne, the warm press of his arm encircled by yours, the way the lighting perfectly enhances his profile. No reason your pictures can’t be equally romantic, since it’s the tone of the day, right? Gazing lovingly up at the Adonis beside you makes it easier to forget the snap of the camera and din of conversation only a few feet away. But you also had a plan in mind, and now is the time to put at least a portion of that into action.

The arm presently facing away from the camera snakes across his back, fingers tracing tender patterns through his jacket down the sturdy curve of his spine. He shudders, so minutely it’s nigh imperceptible to anyone but you, close enough to feel it. You rise on the balls of your feet enough to place your lips tantalizingly close to his ear. 

“I want to taste you so badly right now, my love.”

His expression alone is worth it. A bashful, flushed surprise that gives way to widening pupils and a smug, devilish smirk which sends chills through the length of your body. He looks down at you, uncaring of the camera, bends to your ear and whispers, “You naughty, naughty girl. Must I bend you over my knee?”

You don’t bother hiding the flash of pure, unabashed lust in your eyes as you gaze into his and quip back, “Maybe I want you to.”

He extracts his arm from yours and instead wraps it tightly around your waist, turns, and yanks you tightly against his body. Immediately his lips crash against yours, a passionate, almost desperate kiss that earns hoots and hollers from the crowd. 

“Get a room, you two!” Branson scoffs.

Rylen whistles and shouts, “That’s my boy!”

You break away with a gasp, cheeks burning hot, positively aching and wet between your thighs. Cullen’s face turns shy again, but there’s pride lingering in his eyes as the two of you step away from the platform. Unfortunately, it’s still a while before you’ll have any privacy, as after each couple gets their pictures, the Rutherfords take their own family photos, followed by the whole group (even Bogbean, who lays at the feet of the newlyweds in the center). The heated glances and secretive touches you and Cullen share throughout makes things no less difficult, and all the more thrilling.

After it’s finally done, you step away to snag some champagne, hoping to cool yourself down a bit. Your panties are already soaked and there are still hours of the reception left to go, including dinner. You turn on the charm, conversing and bantering with other guests while Cullen does so with the men just a few feet away, his gaze constantly flicking to meet yours every few minutes. It’s too much to resist, however, so when your glass needs refilling, you saunter past him to the waiting drink trays and, when no one’s looking, pinch his firm rear.

Oh, and the dirty look that earns you. _Absolutely_ worth it. You mold your face into the picture of innocence, allowing your eyes to drift elsewhere as you pluck a fresh glass and an hors d'oeuvre off the table in front of you, popping the latter into your mouth. Humming, you stand and await your payback. It doesn’t take long to arrive, and does in the form of a delicate kiss trailing from your shoulder, up your neck, to just below your ear. But when you turn around to face him, capture his lips in a real kiss, he’s already walking away. The bastard!

Another hour passes with much the same mutual torture. Groping beneath the table throughout dinner while no one’s the wiser. Trading winks and lustful glances across the room after, brushing against each other in passing, whispering what you’d like to do to each other when the night is through before breaking away to mingle once again with the others in attendance. By now, your face has earned a permanent flush from both the teasing and the champagne, and Cullen has the most infuriating cocky grin that clutching your glass and giggling like an idiot with the other ladies is all you can do to keep sane.

Then he approaches you where you’re sitting with Mia, Rosalie, and Claire. “Ladies, if I might borrow my lady for a moment?”

Mia gives the both of you a knowing grin and nods. “As long as you promise to return her in one piece.”

“I won’t make promises I can’t keep, dear sister.” He smirks.

The rest of the group bursts into laughter as you sit, stunned and frozen at his boldness, before he nudges you, reminding you to rise and follow him. He offers his arm, so you thread yours together and walk through the reception area into the hallway which leads to the restrooms, elevator and stairwell, and door to the room where the ceremony was held. It just so happens that’s your destination, as he quickly guides you through that door and the moment it’s closed, has you pressed against it, his mouth hot on yours as his thigh slips between your legs. His hard length slides over your hip, eager and wanting as he ruts.

“Cullen,” you gasp when his lips leave yours to mark a path down your neck and collarbone. You clutch desperately at his shoulders, rolling your own hips needily but no - this game, that he’s clearly been winning, is not over. Not by a long shot.

You shove him away, which is quite a feat considering the size difference and his immense strength, but he breaks off with a concerned look. His lips part, a question on the tip of his tongue. Before he can ask it, however, you flip your positions, push him against the door, and drop to your knees. Within seconds his kilt is hiked up to reveal the delicious, throbbing red cock you know and love so well. You waste no more time, licking a broad stripe from base to tip, cupping his heavy sac with one hand as you tease his frenulum with your tongue. 

“Maker… I’ve-” He breaks off with a groan that goes straight to your cunt. “I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

“Mmm…” you hum. “As have I.”

Wrapping your lips around his weeping head, you relish the salty taste of him and the satisfied, yet increasingly urgent grunts and moans of your gorgeous lover. His fingers tangle in your hair, more to feel you than to guide the rhythm. He’s at your complete mercy. But before long, his hips rock between your mouth and the door as his restraint slowly crumbles. You grip the globes of his arse, hollowing your cheeks and opening your throat as far as you’re able until he gives a warning tug and gasps, “Close!”

The tug at your hair becomes more insistent when the first drops of precome hit your eager tongue. Suddenly, Cullen pulls you away, muttering a furious curse. You glance up questioningly and see his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring as he fights to hold back his end. Taking you by the arm, he helps you stand and crushes his lips to yours.

Urgently, he rakes his hands through your hair, over your bared shoulders, all the while devouring the moans that spill wantonly from your lips. You don’t even realize he has walked you backwards till you hit a table at waist height behind you.

“Bend over,” he growls in command. 

You mewl, “Please,” as you try to find his silken shaft beneath his kilt once more, your own need bubbling up inside you. Like a volcano, the heat and pressure of your desire had been building all day and now the eruption of pleasure is long overdue. Spinning away from his greedy kisses, you tilt from your hips to lean over the small side table.

You’re already panting with anticipation as his large hands trail up the backs of your thighs, dragging the tulle dress with them till you are exposed, with only your silken panties for cover. With your high heels, you’re presented for him at the perfect height to admire and explore. He probes his fingers beneath the gusset of your underwear, and you whimper as he teases your slit.

“You are soaked,” he praises, spreading the wetness with his talented fingers and drawing a few idle circles over your clit. You buck at the action. 

“Cullen, please,” you beg, arching your spine as he torments you. 

“So wet and just from sucking my cock, you absolute minx.”

Cullen folds his body over yours and nibbles against your earlobe. The sharpness of his teeth and still dancing fingers distract you as he pulls up his kilt once more and drags your panties down till they rest midway down your thighs.

“Are you hungry for my cock again?”

You moan as you feel his swollen tip slide over your entrance, promising bliss.

“Well?” He slaps your ass playfully, standing up behind you and lining himself up just so.

“YES!” you cry. 

Not a second later you gasp as his solid length spears you from behind with a firm thrust. He hisses as his girth stretches your walls, and your hands bunch into the linen beneath you. He pulls back and slams back into your heat with a grunt. 

“Thanks to your exquisite mouth I’m not going to last long,” he says, setting a sharp pace. “Touch yourself while I fuck you.” 

Releasing one white knuckled grip on the table, you rush to comply with his order. His hands come to rest on the swell of your hips and he uses your curves as leverage to drive into you once more. His penetrations are hard and quick, and within moments you are near delirious from the feeling. The push-pull of his cock as he uses your body. Your own deft fingers playing with your tight bundle of nerves and the other sensations, how your legs press into the wood with each rock of his hips, how after every few strokes he slaps your ass again causing you to scream in delight, and how you fight to stifle your ever louder pleas and cries. Cullen’s pace quickens as he nears release. His chanting of your name is enough to summon your own orgasm, and as you feel the sprung coil of pleasure snap within you, he places his hand over your mouth while you come undone, muffling your keening cry with his fingers. Soon after, his own broken shout of triumph signifies his end.

“Oh Maker,” you pant as you straighten and tidy yourself. Cullen has a pleased, dopey grin on his face, and you smack him teasingly on the arm. “You’re insatiable!”

He chuckles and leans forward to capture your lips in a chaste kiss. “Only for you.”

“We should get back to the party.”

“Must we?” he complains.

“Yes. Now, how do I look?”

“Like you were just fucked over a table,” he teases, running a hand over your love-fluffed hair.

“Just in time!” Rosalie says as you reenter the reception hall. She snatches your hand from Cullen’s and drags you over to where all the other ladies have assembled. 

Within seconds, all are scrambling, arms in the air. Still a bit dazed, you reach out, catching completely on instinct. When you look down, your hands are clutching the bride’s bouquet tightly to your chest. A deep flush crosses your face as cheers ring out, and Mia looks almost smug at the outcome. You sneak a glance over in Cullen’s direction, fearing a look of horror at the implication. Instead, a tender smile greets you, sending a spark of happiness through your heart. His serene expression warps quickly into a grimace of pain as Rylen elbows him in the ribs with a wink.

The wedding car arrives. A beautiful Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith complete with ‘Just Married’ sign in the back window. All the guests filter outside for the sendoff, making a human corridor for the newlyweds.

“Speech!” Branson and Rosalie shout in unison. Cullen glares daggers at them both, his body tensing up beside you now that all eyes are on him.

“You’ve got this,” you say with a peck to his cheek. His eyes shine with gratitude as he goes to stand by his younger siblings. Everyone waits patiently and silently as Cullen clears his throat and fights a rising blush on his cheeks.

“As most of you know I am the quiet one of the family, so of course, they have asked me to make this speech.” A ripple of laughter pours out from the crowd. “Traditionally, the bride’s parents would speak now. And although they aren’t here, I know that they are looking down on this blessed union, and would have wanted to thank you all for coming. They would say how happy they are to see that we have such good friends, and would heartily approve of the number of Mabari at this wedding.”

As if on cue, Bogbean gives a loud “Woof!” from where he’s sitting with the other good dogs.

“Rylen… As Mia’s brother, I’m obliged to say something along the lines of ‘if you hurt my sister I will hunt you down’.” Everyone laughs again, and you press your fingers to your lips to stifle your own giggle. “But I don’t need to. Not only is Rylen the best man I know but my sister is more than capable of hunting you down herself.” Cullen deadpans and Mia nods approvingly.

“Yes. Mia can look after herself and more. I don’t know anyone else more giving, or with such a big heart. She has cared for all of us, raised us even. And no matter our age, or the mistakes her foolish siblings make, she is always there when we need her.” He looks at Mia, who until now had been valiantly holding back her tears, but they begin pouring freely down her face. “We love you. And I am truly happy that, at last, you have someone to take care of you, like you do for the rest of us.” Cullen nods to Rylen, whose lower lip quivers at the sentiment.

“To the Bride and Groom.” Cullen ends his speech with a rousing toast, echoed by all the other attendees. Mia rushes forward and throws her arms around Cullen, Branson and Rosalie beside him join in the group hug. It’s a heartwarming exchange, especially when Cullen drags Rylen, who had stood somewhat awkwardly by their side, into the fold. 

There are whoops, cheers, and clapping as the couple make their way through the makeshift tunnel. Rice and rose petals are flung their way, as well as several indecent suggestions from the other ex-military types in attendance.

Stepping over to Cullen, you slide your hand towards his and at once feel his fingers intertwine with yours. “Your speech was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he says, tilting his head till it rests on top of your own. 

“Should we go back to the party?” you ask with a sigh as the car disappears from view.

“Actually, I was hoping we could call it a night?” he suggests. “We have a lovely suite to make use of, after all.”

“Insatiable,” you say, giggling as he once again presses his lips to yours.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus inspiration!
> 
> The kilts (and Rylen being cheeky)  
>   
> Mia's dress  
>   
> Your dress (reader)  
> 


	16. Episode 16

After waving off the bride and groom the plan had been to retire to your suite for lots of lovely sex. But then your favorite timeless classic, the cliched one that has and will forever be played at every single wedding ever, catches your ear and you just can’t resist dragging Cullen back to the party for one last slow dance.

It starts out rather respectably; one hand gripping his, your other on his shoulder and his on your hip. But with each swaying step you move a little closer. His hand strays from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close as you abandon his shoulder in favor of his neck. You press your cheek to his chest, tucking your head comfortably beneath his chin, basking in the gentle vibrations as he contentedly hums along to the romantic melody. He slides the hand at the small of your back a little higher, sending a shock of pleasure to your core as his warm palm connects with your exposed skin. The almost-backless dress was a very good choice.

He lowers his head to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, then another, and another, working his way up towards your neck. You pull back slightly, encouraging his journey to continue on to your lips. You release his hand to wrap both arms around his neck, kissing him back with a little more enthusiasm than was probably acceptable in a room full of people. Eventually, regrettably, you both surface for air, and the look on his face is one of pure unadulterated lust. You feel his fingertips biting into your flesh as his heated gaze inflames your loins. You have to have him.

“I think I’m ready to leave, now.” Before you even finish speaking he’s taken you by the hand and is quickly leading you out of the room and toward the elevators, hurling clipped farewells to everyone you pass. You’re practically vibrating with anticipation as Cullen drags you inside the already waiting elevator, a loan man having just stepped off.

“Hold the door!” Bran calls from across the foyer, and though Cullen imitates pushing the button he clearly has no intention of actually doing so. He gives his brother a half-hearted shrug as the doors close just before he makes it, and you just about manage to hear him humorously curse you both.

“You’re terrible.” You laugh, swaying slightly with the pleasant buzz of just-one-too-many glasses of champagne. 

“I know.” He gorgeously smirks, setting your heart aflutter. “But I really wanted to do this.”

He pushes you back with a hand on your stomach until you feel the cool mirrored wall against your skin. His lips come crashing down on yours as his hands greedily roam your body, moaning approvingly when you lift his sporran to palm him through his kilt. He’s already hard, but before you get the chance to hear that hypnotic moan again the elevator comes to a halt and you quickly push him away to compose yourself as the doors slide open.

A surprised squeal escapes you when he lifts you off the floor and proceeds to carry you, bridal style, to your door. Refusing to put you down he waits for you to unlock and open it, effortlessly carrying you inside then kicking it closed behind him. You chuckle as he continues to carry you towards the bed.

“You do know it’s the bride whose supposed to be carried over the threshold, yes?”

“Call it a practice run.” He winks, giving you a lopsided grin as he tries in vain to deny the blush currently lighting up his cheeks.

 _Maker’s breath!_ Had he really been thinking of such things? Though you can’t, in all honesty, say the thought had never crossed your mind. Cullen would make a wonderful husband, of that you have no doubt.

His grin has disappeared when your daydream eventually dissipates, replaced by a look of concern. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, “I shouldn’t have said - I didn’t mean to…” His brow furrows as he sets you down on your feet, looking every which way but directly at you.

“Cullen,” you mercifully intervene, hooking a finger beneath his chin to force him to meet your gaze, “how does a bubble bath sound?”

His immediate and genuine smile lights up the room before he pulls you in for a quick kiss. “I’d love that,” he says, “so long as I get to undress you.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” You make a show of licking your lips before turning to give him access to your zipper, feeling a gentle tug as he pulls it down. You could easily reach it yourself, but where’s the fun in that?

His fingertips caress your shoulder, the one with the strap, sensually dragging it down your arm until the front gapes and you are bare from the waist up. Thank the Maker you have such fantastic tits, ‘cause you never would have been able to wear this outfit with a bra. Soft lips pepper your neck and shoulders with kisses as you finally shimmy out of your beautiful dress and let it fall to the floor. You turn to face him, looking quite the seductress in nothing but your high-heels and tiny silken panties. He holds you so tightly you can barely breathe as you engage him in a heated kiss.

“Patience, love.” You giggle, patting his chest until he disengages.

Sashaying to exaggerate the natural swing of your hips as you walk towards the bathroom, you make a show of bending over to turn on the taps and upend the complimentary bottle of bubble bath. He’s behind you almost as soon as you straighten up, one hand squeezing your arse and another cupping your breast as he buries his nose in your hair to sample its scent.

“You always smell divine,” he murmurs in your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth. The textured fabric of his kilt brushes against your thighs as you turn to face him, your skin hypersensitive with yearning. 

“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” you complain, deft fingers immediately moving to remedy the issue, not stopping until there is a satisfying pile on the floor.

“Wait!” you object when he starts to unfasten his kilt, “just let me get one last look at you in that thing.” You take a few steps back, admiring his hard-earned physique and just how fucking amazing he looks in an outfit he was initially so very unhappy about. He’d felt much better about it after trying it on for you though… there may or may not have been a cheeky blowjob involved. “Alright, you can take it off now,” you instruct, waiting with one hand on your hip as you watch for the grand unveiling.

You make a yummy moan of approval at the sight of his straining cock, unconsciously licking your lips as you begin to salivate. You know exactly how good he tastes, how warm and firm he feels sliding against your tongue. Shaking your head, you free yourself from your lecherous thoughts as you notice the bath is as full as it needs to be. You turn off the taps then perch yourself on the edge to remove your shoes, smiling at Cullen as he does the same. He insists on removing your panties himself, ever so slowly dragging them down your legs until you’re able to step out of them. He runs his palms up the backs of your legs until he reaches your arse, kissing a path back up your torso as he stands.

Soon enough, you’re both submerged in the fragrant bubbles. You fit quite easily in the giant corner tub, wedged between his legs with your back to his chest. You breathe deeply, once, twice, before a mental image of Cullen in his finery enters your mind and you remember just how badly you need him. You rapidly reposition yourself, sploshing water over the sides of the tub as you straddle him. He stares unabashedly at your chest as he caresses your thighs, fingers suddenly biting into your flesh when you slide your slick core along his length. He pulls you to him until your chests collide, kissing you passionately as the repetitive movements of his pelvis unconsciously stimulate your pearl. You’re fairly certain you could climax from this alone if allowed to continue, but you had something a little more interesting than dry humping - correction, wet humping - in mind for such a special occasion.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” you ask against his lips, hearing an answering hum almost immediately. 

“Yes, I do,” he rumbles

His hands sliding down to your backside, gripping and pulling you hard against him so that water sloshes up to your chin. With a moan at the possessiveness of the gesture, you bite your lip. Your wet hand moves through his hair, completely mussing it. The dampness brings some of the curls out. Your other hand slides down his torso, dragging your nails over the hard muscles and marveling that this man wants you, so intensely. You feel them tense under your fingers, but that’s nothing compared to his reaction when you wrap your hand around him, squeezing and stroking slowly. His head falls back against the rim of the tub with a thump and he lets out a low moan. 

“Look at me, love,” you prompt. You’re already breathing hard, just with anticipation. His reaction to you, unbridled and raw always gives you shivers. “I want to see those golden eyes when I take all of your thick cock-” you pause to sink down over him with a low moan, his eyes snapping to yours “-and ride you until you can’t think straight.” 

You take half of him with agonizing slowness, swallowing hard at the intense look in his eyes. Then, you clench around him and slam your hips down, taking the rest of his hard length in one swift stroke. 

“Fuck!” he cries, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave marks, you’re sure. Maker, but you don’t care. It’s so rare to get an expletive out of him. You have to admit, the atmosphere of a wedding has you supercharged as well. You actually feel tears prickling behind your eyes at the intensity of it all. The feel of him inside of you, stretching you and hitting that deep spot. His possessive hands and hungry gaze. 

You start to ride him slowly, the water moving in erratic waves that make the bubbles at the surface pop and fizz. You can’t break his gaze and he can’t seem to either. His hands slide to your hips and he starts to urge you faster. What started out as an attempt at slow, romantic love-making is quickly escalating to the frantic, needy love-making you usually have. You don’t care though, slow, fast, gentle, rough. All of it is making love if it’s with this man. 

With all of the teasing and building through the day, you thought you’d find your end quickly, but it’s building with a delicious slowness despite your frenzied pace. Even with the all-consuming pleasure of the moment, your mind continues to wander to his comment. _Practice run_. You wonder if he’s been thinking that all day. Each time his amber eyes found you with that look and lopsided grin. Is that what he’s thinking now? 

You must have your thoughts written all over your face. His hand moves to your cheek, dampening it and smearing bubbles on your skin. All of your nerves are wound so tightly that you feel the pop of each one. “ _Maker’s breath_ , I love you,” He says softly, his hand moving behind your neck to pull you into another feverish kiss. 

With your lips occupied as they are, you can’t say it back but you make sure to show it. You tease his lips with your tongue until he grants you access. Your hips grow erratic as you focus all of your energy into the kiss, passionate and needy. You can’t stop the moan that he devours, his hips bucking up into you. You can feel it in his body, the need to _take_ you.

All of you. In every way.

With a cry muffled against his dominating lips you shatter.

Cullen growls against your neck at the sensation of your body squeezing him as wave after wave of pleasure alights your senses. And after what could be moments or minutes you fold over against his chest, in a breathless slump.

“I-I’m sorry I couldn't last,” you say feebly, panting from your exertions.

“Don’t be,” he says with a press of his lips to yours, fixing you with a devilish smirk. “Now I get to feel you come apart around me again."

Cullen stands, steps from the bath and you stare in unabashed admiration as he quickly moves around the suite, setting a large bath sheet across the bed and very aware of the effect his nude and aroused form is having on your reawakening libido. His hair is almost completely curled and damp around the nape of his neck from sprayed water droplets. Sparkling rivulets chase random paths across his skin, twinkling like diamonds when they catch the light just so. And his magnificent cock is hard, red, and glistening from your joining.

“Come here, little mermaid," he says with a wink and before you can give an answer or rise from the bath you shriek in surprise. Strong arms dip into the water, scooping up your submerged body, and lifting you with ease. Unlike his near graceful bridal style carry when you entered the room this time he pulls you higher, shifting your body till you are draped over his shoulder like a barbarian.

“Cullen!” You giggle as he presses a kiss to your bare thigh, his hands trailing idle patterns up the expanse of your legs and stroking your slit. Now you moan his name as his probing touches pour fuel on the fire of your arousal.

He gently deposits you on the bed, but not before giving your arse a playful slap causing you to squeak in playful indignation. You aren’t laid on your back a second before his body is over you, his lips crashing into yours as he maneuvers your slick body to welcome his. You part your legs eagerly and moan as he rolls his length against your core, teasing you and testing you till you beg for him to take you again. Cullen groans as he pushes his girth into your heat once more. Pushing hard and deep till his entire length is sheathed in your channel. He withdraws barely an inch before sliding back home, enjoying the feel of being joined too much to wish any further distance between you.

“I love how you feel," he confesses as he starts to move with short strong thrusts. Your hands trail over his sculpted shoulders, his water-slicked back, and any and all skin you can reach while he drives mercilessly within you. “I love your _tight_ hot _cunt_ ," he punctuates each word with a sharp thrust of his hips, each one forcing a mewl of delight from your lips.

You moan greedily as you feel the all too familiar tightening centered on your core. "More!"

His arms abandon their post either side of your head and instead snake under your shoulders. His hands locking over the top to cleave him to you as he wrenches forward with another, then another hard snap of his hips that has your body pushing against his restraining arms. Your head falls back onto the soft cushions as he pistons inside you. The whole world magnifying down to his hard grunts, your own chants of his name, and the near effervescent pleasure preparing to erupt once more. It’s all too much, his weight encompasses you, grounds you, and yet you feel as if you are flying as your wet bodies glide over each other. Your wandering hands come to settle on his muscled buttocks and you gasp as you feel them flex and shift harder and faster with each passing moment. You cry out at the primal intensity of it, the feeling over being wholly and irrevocably consumed by his passions.

“I love you,” he says again, and just like before he fixes his eyes on yours. With a gasp of his name you feel yourself _burn_ with need for him. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats. When your eyes roll back and lids slide closed he shifts to instead whisper his confession by your ear. “I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!” His shout is matched in volume with your wail of ecstasy as you crumble beneath him, his cock stiffening and twitching within you as he fills you again with his hot seed.

“It would seem-” you have to pause to take a few deep breaths “-that we are again, in need of a bath. Luckily you had the presence of mind to take some precautions.” 

His chuckle of delight warms your heart. “Not only do we have to sleep in this bed but some poor soul has to clean it.” He lifts his head and looks down at you with a smile that lights his eyes. “You know I love you?” 

“Mmm, so you mentioned several times,” you tease. His own smile falters slightly. 

“I’m sorry, I just-” you cut him off by pulling him down for a kiss. 

“Never be sorry,” you murmur against his lips. “Ever.” The finality in your voice leaves no room for argument. He raises his head to look down at you again, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I love you. And I love hearing you say you love me. Especially when you’re balls deep and making me scream.” He snorts at your crass words before he laughs, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You can feel the laugh shaking his whole body.

“You’re amazing,” he says, kissing your skin gently.

He moves off of you and the bed, taking your hand to help you stand. He chuckles when you squeeze his hand to keep from stumbling. Your legs are still a little unsteady from the thorough session you just had. You both clean up quickly and fix the bed. Walking over to your suitcase you dig through it for your nightgown. As soon as you find it, it’s ripped out of your hand with an “absolutely not.”

“Hey!” you cry, turning to watch him throw it over his shoulder. “What if we don’t hear room service in the morning and they walk right in?” 

“Then I will challenge them to a duel to defend your honor,” he says, as if it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. Sweeping you off your feet again he brings you back to the bed. 

You laugh. “I can walk, you know.” Your feet have hardly hit the floor since you got back to your room. 

“You can,” he agrees. “But you don’t have to.” 

He lays you on the bed gently this time and follows you beneath the covers. Very quickly, his arm pulls you in close. You turn and slide your arm over his chest, laying your head on his shoulder, quite comfortably tucked under his arm and against his side. His fingers idly move over you back as yours roam his chest. You just lay there together, both unable-or perhaps unwilling-to go to sleep.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you caught the bouquet,” he says softly after a long period of comfortable silence. 

“Mia kind of threw it right at me. If I hadn't caught it, my face would have.” Your fingers play through the coarse hair on his chest as he chuckles. 

“She probably did aim for you. She loves you and has said more than once to several people that she wants you in the family.” His fingers continue to draw lazy shapes on your skin. You can feel goosebumps rising, but not from the cold. You’re broaching that subject.

“Mia hardly knows me,” you protest half-heartedly. 

“You’d be surprised how quickly she can sum someone up. She knows you make me happy and that’s really all she wants. For everyone to be happy and loved. You’re included in that list now too.” He kisses the top of your head. 

“Do you want to get married to someone someday?” you ask curiously, trying not to put him in a corner. Plenty of men run at the mention of marriage and you aren’t ready for him to go yet. Or really, ever.

“Yes,” he chuckles. “Someday, to “someone”.” His voice is teasing when he says “someone” and he squeezes you tightly against him. 

Well, that went alright. Before you can stop yourself, the next question is out of your mouth. “Do you want children?” 

“Absolutely,” he replies without hesitation. He cranes his neck to look down at you. “You?” 

You nod slowly. You’ve thought about it before. A sweet child with a mop of those beautiful blonde curls, grabbing the scruff of Andy’s neck as she helps them toddle across the room. An infant asleep on Cullen’s chest as he dozes on the couch. Family picnics at the lake and barbeques at Mia and Rylen’s beautiful house. From the look in his eyes you can tell he’s had the same sort of daydreams. 

Kissing your forehead he turns and wraps one leg over yours, pulling you even closer together. It feels a little awkward now, getting such things out in the open. You get the feeling that he’s wanted to talk about it too but you’ve both been so scared of spooking the other. Being with him is so incredibly perfect and you can’t imagine what would happen if it all stopped. 

Tucking your head beneath his chin he encases you in his strong arms. You would think that he’d smell like hotel bubble-bath but he still just smells like….him. Closing your eyes, you take all of him in. His smell, the feel of his arms around you and his hard body against you; his soft, even breathing, the way his fingers brush your skin. You feel the tears stinging your eyes again so you bury your face against his chest. You know he’ll panic if he sees them, though there’s no reason to. It’s because you’re so happy you just don’t know how else to express it. Even though you know the answer, you dare not ask if he wants to get married to and have children with you. You just can’t do it. There’s always that small chance he’ll say no or shut down, or Maker forbid, leave. But you’re in no hurry. If you never got married, never had children, you would still be content to wake up to him every day for the rest of your life. Progeny and paperwork aside, you’ve already committed your life to this man whether he knows it or not. 

“I love you, Cullen. So much,” you whisper with a quaking voice. You’ve missed your chance though. You can tell by his low, even breathing that he’s already asleep. It’s been a long and exhausting day so you can’t blame him for drifting off while you were silently contemplating your future. 

That does give you a chance to get some things off your chest. “When you ask me to marry you, I promise I’ll say yes. I don’t need a fancy ring or even any ring. Just you.” In the quiet and the darkness, you swear you can almost hear his heartbeat. “And Andy,” you add with a smile, snuggling into him. “You’d make such a wonderful father. I can’t imagine having children with anyone else.” 

You pull away slightly to look at his serene sleeping face, tracing his scar with a feather-light touch. “I’ll never finish falling in love with you, Cullen.” Settling your head again, you close your eyes and join him in your dreams. 


	17. Episode 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has a surprise for you.

Cullen hisses as you sink down on his hard length, his head falling back against the headboard with a thump. He is propped up as you straddle him, your naked chests brushing together with each gentle rise and fall of your hips. You moan and grip his shoulders as he starts to move beneath you, thrusting upwards to meet each one of your downward strokes. You alternate between crowding over to kiss him fiercely, and throwing your head back as he lavishes attention upon your breasts. His lips never leave your skin for an instant as you ride him with abandon.

“Yes,” you gasp as his firm hands grip your arse, guiding your movements with rising intensity and speed as you chase your end. Cullen groans as your grip on his shoulders tightens and you chant his name. Hot, panting breaths, whimpers, and sighs of pleasure the only other noises as you act out your fevered passions. Until, with a silent scream, you come apart. His own body shudders and he bites at your neck to muffle his groan as he climaxes beneath you.

“Maker, how does this keep getting better,” he praises and peppers your jaw with kisses as you both revel in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You agree with a soft murmur, your body resting against his strong chest while you remain joined and content on his lap.

Andy gives a disgruntled bark from her position outside of the room causing Cullen’s chest to shake in silent laughter.

“I guess someone is annoyed that we locked her outside in the middle of the afternoon,” you say and laugh as you hear an answering, “Woof!”

Cullen grumbles, “Alright, alright!” You shift your weight from him and he presses a chaste kiss to your lips just before he slips from the bed. You tuck yourself back beneath the sheets, biting your lip in silent appreciation as his nude form crosses your line of sight towards the bedroom door. “I’m going to take a quick shower,” he says.

Andy bounds inside and sits herself down on the floor next to where you’re lying for a quick head scratch. As the door to the bathroom closes, the mabari huffs. She looks at the closed door, her head tilting as the sound from the shower starts to filter into the bedroom and then bounds away. You lay your head down on the soft pillows and, as you often do in post-love-making clarity, praise every god for your good luck and for giving you a life with Cullen Rutherford.

Earlier today, he made you a wonderful breakfast, rivaling the one from your cabin trip. He’d then ordered your favorite lunch from the local Deli, complete with cake. And, after having fallen asleep on the sofa for a quick food nap, you had woken to find a blanket tucked in around your body and your favorite nug plushie tucked under your arm. You'd strode into the bedroom to return the blanket and Mr. Pinky to their rightful homes and become distracted. Seeing Cullen reading casually in bed with glasses on, his shirt buttoned-down and slightly askew had set fire to your desires and you at once sought to show your appreciation.

Huffing and snuffling from the vicinity of the wardrobe distracts you from your musings.

“Andy have you gotten stuck again?” you ask, propping yourself up on your shoulders to see what the now fully grown Mabari is getting up to. Her haunches and tail are just visible protruding from the wardrobe, the latter wagging furiously. After a few more seconds Andy raises her head and plods over with snort of triumph. 

“What you got there, a lost toy?” She deposits a small saliva-coated thing on the bed beside you. “Soggy, nice.” 

Absentmindedly picking up the square lacquered box, your eyes widen in shock as you finally absorb the dimensions, it’s hidden location and the name of a prestigious jeweler finely embossed on the top. You drop the box in your lap with a gasp. 

You hear Cullen groan “No!” from the now open bathroom door and cover your mouth with your hands.“I had a plan…” he says.

You look up at him, nearly breathless. “Is this what I think it is?” Cullen rubs the back of his neck as a flush blooms across his cheeks. You’re so distracted by the contents of that tiny box you can’t even appreciate this Adonis who is wearing nothing but a fluffy towel. 

“Yeah, it is,” he confirms, starting toward you.

You delicately pick up the box again as though it might break. The two of you have never discussed jewelry before. Just vague ideas about your future together. You sort of figured a proposal was in your future somewhere, but certainly not now. Sneaky man. Despite that, the ring is just your style. It’s perfect in every way. You don’t think you could have picked out something better if you’d had weeks and a room full of catalogs.

“Everything is in the car. I was going to-” 

You throw off the covers, burying the still smug Andy in them, and surge across the room. Despite his surprise, he manages to keep you both upright as you throw yourself against him and kiss him fiercely. “Shut up,” you whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead to his. “I don’t want you to tell me. I want you to show me.”

“Does that mean you aren’t going to tell me now if you’ll ma-” 

You cut him off again with another kiss. You both know what the answer is going to be but you are sure he’s put so much time and effort into this that you want it to be perfect for him. For both of you. “That’s exactly what it means.”

His arms wrap around you and he squeezes you tight, burying his face in your hair. “You’re going to be the death of me.” His lips brush tenderly against your ear and you resist the urge to yank off his towel and jump his bones. Instead, you pull away from him gently and grab the edge.

You snap the box closed and use the cloth to wipe all of the drool off of it and your hands. He takes it from you gently, though his eyes never leave your face and his lips are set in what seems to be a permanent grin. Maker, save you. You get to stare at that face for the rest of your life!

“How should I dress?” you ask, turning to the dresser. The bottom drawer is still pulled out where Andy had nosed it open. Speaking of which, you see the giant blob under the covers shifting as she tries to find her way out of the fluffy linens. With a chuckle, you take mercy and disentangle her. “Serves you right,” you whisper to her.

“You know I hate anything that has to do with you putting on clothes.” His chuckle sends a tingle down your spine and gives you goosebumps. “Wear whatever you’d like.”

The warm wall of his chest presses comfortingly against your back as he reaches around you to grab clothes from the drawer you’re already rifling through. You aren’t even really paying attention to what you’re putting on. The dreamy daze you’re in makes it hard to think of anything. He tells you that you look beautiful so it can’t be too bad. You both say goodbye to Andy and Cullen whispers to her as he kneels down to scratch her chest, “I’ll bring your momma home soon.”

He double-checks that he has everything in the trunk of your favorite of his vehicles, the old Impala. You can’t help but notice something fluffy and folded up at the top of a box. It’s a deep maroon colored robe and it has “Future Mrs. Rutherford” embroidered in gold on the breast. Cullen quickly covers it up with a jacket he has in the trunk and playfully glares at you.

“Get in the car, woman. You wanted this to be a surprise, remember?”

Biting your lip at his teasing tone and nod, sliding into the passenger seat with a smile you can’t contain. You did want it to be a surprise but you also can’t help but wonder what else he has hidden in there. You stare at him for what feels like the whole time he’s driving and he keeps giving you side glances and smiling. Reaching over, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently.

He pulls into a familiar parking lot. The gym is dark and empty, closed for today. Pulling around to the back of the building, Cullen backs up next to the door marked “Staff Only” and quickly circles the car to help you out. He presses a key into your hand and smiles. “Head to the office and give me a half-hour. I’ll come and get you when I’m done. I promise you won’t be bored.”

The kiss he gives you was meant to just be a quick goodbye but neither of you can break away. His hand rests on your cheek as you shuffle closer, your feet bumping against his. Finally, you disengage with a smile and swallow hard. You already know your way through the building, even in it’s darkened state. Unlocking the office door, you flip on the light and gasp. There are at least a half dozen bouquets of your favorite flowers mixed in with bright and colorful blooms that fill the small space with a beautiful fragrance. On the desk is a scrapbook with a note on the top.

_I wish I could take credit for this, but Mia helped a lot._

You sit down and open it up. Inside are pictures of the two of you. It seems he’s been taking them without you noticing. Your first meeting with Andy, pictures of your trips to the cabin, at barbecues, or on hikes. There are plenty of the two of you that Mia or some of his other siblings must have taken. Most are candid but some you vividly remember taking. They all span nearly the entirety of your relationship. As you flip through the pages, you have to hold back tears. Each picture brings back a new memory and you don’t even notice the time passing by. You flip to a page in the middle and it’s blank except for Cullen’s handwriting framed on either side with a fanciful little heart.

_More to come…_

You’re still looking through the pictures, committing each to memory when a soft click alerts you to Cullen’s presence. Within seconds, his arms wrap around your waist. He buries his face in your hair and you smile, relaxing into his sturdy form, knowing that he’ll never let you fall. A breathy sigh escapes as he places chaste, tender kisses along the curve of your neck.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

The hammering of your heart steals all ability to create sound, so you simply nod against him, struggling not to whimper. It’s not that you aren’t, or that you’re scared. But you feel you’ve been waiting all your life for this moment, and now that it’s arrived, your knees have turned to gelatin and the simplest of motor functions require more brain capacity than you can manage. Somehow, though, when he releases you and takes your hand, your feet move as though by rote.

Trailing after him, you hear soft, low music emanating from the doors on the far end of the hall see an orange glow flickering beneath the door. You have no idea what he’s prepared but are sure it will be every bit as brilliant as everything Cullen does. As you approach the door, he pauses, hangs his head, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. All this time, you’ve been anxious as fuck, and forgot just how nerve-wracking this must be for him as well!

“Cullen…” you murmur, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

He tilts his head, peering down at you, eyes glimmering in the near-nonexistent light. The shadow of a smile ghosts across his perfect lips and suddenly you wish nothing more than to see him, in all his glory. You click your heels together, straighten your back, and jut your chin resolutely forward. You can do this. Together, you can do anything.

With a wordless nod and his head now held high, Cullen pushes open the door and leads you inside. 

_Sweet, glorious Maker._

Nary an inch of the floor within isn’t covered with rose petals of varying shades of red and pink. The ethereal, dancing glow of candles littering nearly every raised surface basks the room in soft light. The combined aromas swirl around you, of musky rose and sweet vanilla, a hint of lavender, comforting and serene. Instantly, the fluttering in your stomach calms. It doesn’t dissipate completely, but enough to ease you slowly into the room.

At the center, the boxing ring is lined with more candles. A small circle in the center is the only area devoid of flower petals, and you’re guessing there is a reason for it. You look up at him, a question in your eyes, and he nods. Both of you make your way to it, hand in hand, and he, gentleman that he is, lifts you by the waist up onto the platform. 

You duck under the rope and tiptoe gently toward the center, careful not to disturb his painstaking arrangement. Once at your destination, you stop and close your eyes, taking steady breaths of the scents wafting through the air and listening to the gentle swish of Cullen’s slacks behind you denoting his movement. It stops, but still, you wait. The seconds drag on, with only the sound of your rapidly thudding heart and the music remaining. Your lips part, a plea on the tip of your tongue, but before you can utter it, he speaks.

“Open your eyes, my love.”

You thought you’d prepared yourself for this sight, but imagination hardly does it any justice.

Cullen, golden hair like a halo in the candlelight, plush lower lip wavering between a quiver and a smile. His amber gaze shining with the weight of his emotion as he rests on one knee below you, the tiny box cupped between both hands. Eyes locked, the two of you share a joined breath, yours releasing in a trembling sigh. Finally, he peels back the lid.

“Will you-” he says, voice breaking, “will you marry me?”

The tears you’d battled all evening to control burst forth in a rush as the question breaks down the floodgate of joy held within. Your head bounces up and down as you struggle to find your voice. He quirks an eyebrow, the insufferable man. He wants to hear the words.

“Yes, Cullen, a million times yes!” you sob. 

Grinning like a little boy granted his wildest dream come true, he plucks the ring from its cushion and, without preamble, tosses the box over his shoulder. You laugh through the tears, grateful for the tiny release of tension it provides but it ends in a sharp gasp as the ring slides on your finger. He holds your hand so delicately between his, as though you’re the most precious, fragile treasure in the universe as he slowly rises. You can’t hold back any longer.

Flinging yourself into his arms, you wrap your own around his neck, immediately plastering every inch of his face with enthusiastic, impatient kisses. His hands settle upon your hips, but no, that’s not nearly enough for you right now. You pull him into you and bounce on the tips of your toes in the way you know he understands is a signal. He acquiesces without question, grasping your rear and lifting you smoothly to wrap your legs around his waist.

Panting between kisses, his voice already wrecked, he says, “You’ve made me the happiest man in all of Thedas.”

Your lips trail to the shell of his ear, teasing and light. “Love, just you wait.”

You nibble his ear as your grip on his waist tightens, delighting in the hard press of his ever-growing bulge against your core.

“So I did well?” Cullen was such a worrier at times.

“This was,” You bite your lip, trying and failing to find the right words to express just how perfect his proposal was. “Beyond words,” you finally settle on, though you feel the need to ask, “ but… why the boxing ring? Why not the spin studio or the showers even?” Both places of firsts for you.

Cullen closes his eyes for a moment, as though embarrassed by your question. “I probably should have told you this a while ago but… I was standing in this exact spot the very first time I saw you.”

Admittedly confused, your smile falters. “You were?”

“I was.” He nods, smiling shyly. “And I’m not too proud to admit that for a few very long weeks I may have… obsessed over you, just a little bit.”

Your eyes widen with surprise. You were so certain you’d been the one to notice him first.

“I knew nothing about you,” he happily continued, “but even so, I just knew you were special. I wasn’t in a very good place not long before we met, as you know, but noticing you helped me to realize that I was finally ready to leave all that hurt behind. And then you accosted me in the showers and, although spectacular, I worried I may have -”

“I accosted you?” you interrupt, gaping in shock at the accusation.

“What, so you just accidentally wandered into the men’s showers did you?” He chuckles, easily still supporting your weight as though you were nothing more than a small child.

“I did, actually,” you answer, somehow sounding guilty despite speaking the truth. “And what about you? You just expect me to believe that masturbating with the cubicle door open was a regular occurrence for you?

“No, of course not.” He scoffs. “I was… distracted.”

“By?”

“Well, I had just spent the previous hour trying and failing not to get an erection over a woman who was, and still is, the human embodiment of desire.” Your tight-lipped grin spans the full width of your face, but he isn’t finished.“The way you looked riding that bike, bouncing and glistening - and when you took that sip of water that dribbled down your chin…” He bites his lip appreciatively. “I knew I’d have to relieve myself just as soon as the class was over.”

Could this man be any more perfect? Actually, you know the answer is yes. So many times you’ve asked yourself that very question, only for him to then go and surpass himself. Again.

“Cullen.” You sigh as he lavishes your throat with open-mouthed kisses.

His absent-minded response is merely a questioning hum as his attention is all but consumed by the taste of your skin.

“I’m not sure I can wait until we’re home.” You giggle as you unwind your legs from his waist and plant your feet on the ground. “I think another trip down memory lane is in order.” You slip out of the ring and race toward the exit, shooting a stupefied Cullen one last glance over your shoulder before you disappear into the corridor.

His footsteps aren’t far behind as you enter the men’s showers, haphazardly discarding your clothes as you race to be rid of them until you’re wearing nothing but your beautiful engagement ring. The showers aren’t typically those you’d expect to find in a gym, but rather a luxury spa. The stalls are easily big enough for two, with frosted glass double-doors that contrast beautifully with the large silvery-grey tiles and the overhead lights.

Mia definitely had a hand in the last refurbishment.

You dart into the nearest stall, the one in which you discovered just how life-changing sex could really be, and turn on the water. You give a startled gasp when Cullen’s hand loudly connects with your bare arse, quickly twirling around to help him out of his clothes.

He does little to help, staring unabashedly at your naked form as you keenly unveil his exquisitely chiseled body. You thank your lucky stars for the several-hundredth time that you managed to bag such an incredibly thoughtful, honest, passionate, sinfully beautiful man. And now you had a lifetime of happiness ahead of you.

As he backs you towards the shower, you wrap an eager hand around his steely cock, kissing him passionately until your back hits the tile wall and you hiss as the cold electrifies your heated skin. He cradles your face, palms resting against the angles of your jaw and fingers tangled in your hair as he moans into the kiss. His hips are twitching slightly, chasing the grip of your hand as it strokes up and down his meaty length.

The water has soaked through his hair, revealing the cherub-like curls that very few others ever get to see. Cullen’s sleep-mussed curls might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s unfair even, and the very reason most of your mornings start with a bang.

Cullen breaks from your lips to slowly kiss his way down your body until, for the second time this evening, he’s on one knee before you. He peppers your navel with kisses as his hand slides down the back of your thigh and, making use of your balance and flexibility, he brings your foot to rest on his knee. He stares at the apex of your thighs as though discovering the Golden City, glancing up to flash you a predatory grin before finally surging forwards. The broad swipe of his tongue slips between your labia, tasting you from slit to clit.

You breathlessly moan, sliding your fingers into his hair to grip his wet curls as he ravages you with lips and tongue. You twitch violently with each hard suck of that tiny bundle of nerves he knows so well until his name spills from your lips like some worshipful chant as he tips you over the edge.

His lips are back on yours before you’ve even caught your breath, the arousing taste of your release fresh on his tongue. You push him back slightly, just enough to turn yourself around and press your chest to the tiles.

Cullen’s lips find your neck as his hands wander down your body, coming to rest on your waist as you tilt your hips, pressing your backside to his groin. He knows what you want, grasping his slick cock to guide himself between your slightly parted thighs.

He rolls his hips, the head of his cock bumping against your clit as he slides his length between your sensitive folds until you whine with need. Moved by your desperation he presses his fingers into the seam where hip meets thighs and tilts your pelvis just a little further, but it’s enough that the next slide of his cock seats him deeply within your aching core.

Arms bent at the elbows you press both palms to the wall, holding your top half steady as he guides the movements of your hips; pulling and pushing you along his length with an impressive amount of restraint. You can tell from the stinging bite of his fingertips digging into your flesh that he wants to go faster… and you couldn’t, in all honesty, say that a frenzied fuck wouldn’t be exceedingly well received.

So you tell him with a sultry whisper, “don’t hold back, love.”

He doesn’t even have to think about it, the loud smack of flesh on flesh an immediate addition to your surroundings. He urges you faster, harder, his own thrusts meeting yours with such precision that the far-reach of his cock makes your toes curl. It’s a good thing the building is empty, though you worry someone passing by wouldn’t have too much difficulty picking up your moans and cries of "more" and "harder".

With a final sharp thrust, he buries himself impossibly deep and fills you with his precious seed; dragging you over the edge with him for a second time. Your voice is hoarse as your final shout of his name tears from your throat, your entire body trembling as your spasming cunt continues to milk him of his release.

Cullen rests his forehead against your shoulder, his panting breaths warming your skin. He releases his grip on your hips and slowly turns you to face him. His face is red, both from exertion and from the heat of the shower and you suspect you very likely have a complexion to match. You press a palm to his cheek, tracing his scar with the pad of your thumb. He’s still trying to catch his breath, so instead of his lips you stand on your tiptoes and kiss the tip of his nose.

“Don’t suppose you brought a towel, did you?” You joke as Cullen turns off the water, resigning yourself to an unfavourable air-dry.

“Actually,” He steps out of the cubicle and is gone for no more than five seconds before returning with the crimson robe you’d spied in his trunk. “I had this specially embroidered.”

You trace the fancy gold lettering with your fingertips, grinning at the touching gesture of this super-sweet man. “Could it be you somehow knew we'd end up in here?” you ask, voice dripping with suspicion.

He chuckles as he wraps the robe around your shoulders, gently rubbing your back as you snake your arms around his waist. “Like I said, I had a plan.”

He kisses the top of your head as you snuggle in to his warm embrace. “Take me home, fiance,” you humbly request, smiling brightly at the new title, “our girl will be waiting to hear the good news.”


	18. Epsiode 18 - The Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day you've been waiting for all your life.

Months of planning and preparation have all led to this. You’d surveyed the newly renovated and decorated barn with a smile, recalling Mia’s horror when you first suggested using the farm building for your nuptials. A few gentle urges on Cullen’s part and Rosalie happily providing a comprehensive Pinterest board convinced her of the plan, and she and Rylen had stopped at nothing to make your dream a reality.

It was perfect for you both, rustic and charming, lacking pretentious glamour and with plenty of room for the pack of mabari that were part of your extended family.

Cullen and his groomsmen had spent the night "camping" in the barn, recently upgraded with heating for this very event. As a team, you had spent the whole of yesterday sweeping and dusting away any remnants of hay or cobwebs. The oak floor was now pristine and polished. The enormous beams in the barn’s exposed roof had been hung with what must have been hundreds of fairy lights that, when the central illuminations were dimmed, made it look as if you were standing under a canopy of warm twinkling stars.

Long farmhouse tables were set with simple decorations. Jars and mismatched vases filled with colorful assortments of wildflowers and foliage from the farm and surrounding woodland. It gave the interior a wonderful touch of the outdoors and the welcoming scent of fresh flowers and aged oak. And now you are waiting, quite alone in the beautiful space for your fiance to make his appearance. You had agreed to see each other before the ceremony and vows, both to alleviate any anxiety and because some superstitions didn’t hold sway with you.

“Maker above.” Cullen’s breathless exclamation draws your attention toward the barn door.

“Cullen!” You smile jovially while drinking in the sight of him in his wedding clothes. “You look…” His dark suit is perfectly tailored to suit his muscular frame, his body somehow elongated and chiseled in the fine fabrics. The silk brocade waistcoat provides a figure-hugging flash of refinement in contrast to his still stubbled jaw and neat but somehow still perfectly mussed hair. “I don’t have the words!” you say, feeling almost light-headed from joy and admiration.

He gives a small, somewhat nervous chuckle. “The feeling is mutual.”

Grinning at your mutual awkwardness, you spin in your chosen dress for show. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.” He sighs, drawing closer to you slowly and hesitantly as if you were a beautiful mirage ready to vanish if he approaches too quickly.

“You are perfect. I - I am the luckiest man alive,” he confesses, eyes shining. You can’t fight the heat on your cheeks at the earnestness and awe in his voice.

“The feeling is mutual,” you parrot his words back at him, quickly stammering out a clarification, “I, mean. I’m not a man but I am the luckiest - Mmmph!”

Cullen presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, silencing your worries and cares at once. He draws back with a knowing smirk and arches a brow as he looks over your shoulder at the beautifully decorated barn. 

“Shall we practice our dance?” Cullen laces your hands together, guiding you toward the dance floor. His arms wrap around your waist. “I can’t believe I get to marry you today,” he murmurs. You rest your foreheads together, swaying gently to the imagined music. “I can’t believe I get to call you my wife.” He takes your arm and twirls you around, devouring you with his eyes as he does so. “And I can’t wait to peel you out of that dress.” 

You gasp as he suddenly pulls your body flush against his with a sharp tug. You can feel the hard unmistakable press of his arousal and a steady thrum of desire rise within you as he fixes you with his gold, lust darkened gaze.

“Cullen,” you moan. He brushes his lips against your jawline, his hands almost bruising as they stroke and grasp your clothed body. 

He says your name with desperation, sounding almost pained as he whispers in your ear. “I mean I _really_ can’t wait. I have to have you. Now.”

You arch your brow, taking stock of each minute detail that lets you know just how desperate he truly is; the dark look of promise in his eyes; the slight flare of his nostrils as he drinks you in; the pressing weight of his large hands resting on the swell of your arse as he holds you close. 

As if you could ever say no to him.

“We don’t have long.” Your words serve as a warning, though your tone says _take me now_.

“With you looking like that”-Cullen looks you up and down as much as your close proximity allows-“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

Giggling, you take him by the hand and drag him to the nearest chair, spinning him as you approach. You unbuckle his belt with deft hands before shoving him backward until he’s comfortably seated. The expensive lingerie you’re wearing beneath your dress is far too intricate to simply slide down your legs, so, for now, you carefully hike up your skirt and straddle him.

Cullen peppers the column of your throat with open-mouthed kisses as you reach for him, slipping a hand into his elegantly tailored trousers and wrapping your fingers around his already weeping cock. Hands already beneath your skirt, he drags his blunt nails down your smooth thighs as you give him a few teasing tugs.

“Careful,” he almost growls. “It’s loaded and ready to fire.”

Warmth blooms in your chest as he graces you with his panty-dropping smirk, and you don’t waste another second. You mentally applaud yourself for choosing such a perfect dress, hooking a finger beneath the gusset of your underwear and dragging it to one side as you swiftly lift and lower yourself on to him. Cullen’s eyes never leave your face as you slowly sink down, taking him inch by glorious inch until you're so full you could scream. He bites his lip when you roll your hips, and you can’t resist having a go yourself; sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and gently worrying it with your teeth.

“Your lipstick hasn’t smudged,” he curiously notes. “Do I sense magic afoot?”

You laugh. “It’s smudge-proof lip stain; near impossible to remove.” You lean closer to whisper in his ear, “Which means I get to kiss you as much as I like today.”

Taking this information as an invitation, he turns his head and chases your lips as you retreat with a teasing grin. He exhales in good-natured annoyance, bouncing you once on his knee so that you lurch forwards. “I thought you said we didn’t have long,” he whispers against your lips.

 _Shit!_ Your eyes widen in realization. You’d completely forgotten that part. Holding onto his shoulders you abandon the slow roll of your hips and start to furiously grind your clit against his pubis. 

Cullen clenches his jaw as his large hands slide along your thighs to encompass your lace-covered ass, keen to encourage the pace you’ve already set. You stare into each other’s eyes, matching each other breath for breath as you hurtle towards your peak. “Maker.” He sighs, voice full of adoration. “I can hardly believe I get to do this with you for the rest of my life.”

Your moan catches in your throat, a lump of emotion almost closing off your airway. That he’s always considered himself to be the lucky one never ceases to amaze you. “Promise me we’ll never stop?” You pant, your climax rapidly building.

“Never.” He surges forward, kissing you passionately for a long delectable moment before pulling back to look you in the eye. “I’d be inside of you every moment of every day if I could.” You chuckle, placing a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. “I mean it.” The dark look in his eyes intensifies tenfold. “I’m going to put so many babies in you, and even then I’ll never stop wanting more of this - of you.”

You bite down on your lip as your orgasm takes you by surprise, slowing the roll of your pelvis almost to a halt as your spasming cunt inevitably drags Cullen down into the abyss with you. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply as you cling to him, the little aftershocks of your love-making still wracking both your bodies. 

“You think we could get married like this?”

You push him back and smack his chest as you sit up straight, laughing at the ridiculous mental image of everybody watching you recite your vows with Cullen’s cock wedged deep inside of you. 

“Come on.” You stand as gracefully as you’re able and quickly adjust your panties and smooth down your skirt. “We need to get a move on before everybody accurately guesses what we’ve been up to in here.”

He grabs your hand as you start to walk away, whirling you back into his arms to kiss you breathless. When he finally releases you, you slide your hand to the back of his neck and pull him close to whisper in his ear, “Put your cock away, love.”

You’re loath to be separated from him, but his groomsmen drag him away while Mia and your bridesmaids do the same to you. Mia tries to, at least. Rylen is far too busy obsessing over her. The small but telling bump under her dress makes it clear why. He’s clearly distracted on your wedding day and you couldn’t be happier to share it. The Rutherfords, and all associated significant others, have already claimed you as their family, but you’ll officially be one of them when your niece or nephew arrives. 

You can’t help but smile at how they are with each other. The heart-eyes he gives his wife and the playful way she bats his hands away from her stomach. Longing flutters beneath your breast. One day, perhaps, that will be you and Cullen...

“I am trying to be a good maid of honor and you’re _pawing_ is making that very difficult.” Mia pushes Rylen as she chastises, though there isn’t much bluster behind it. “Go find Cullen and make yourself useful. The two of us will be fine without you for a few hours.” 

He’d started to walk away, grinning like an idiot, but spins back around. “Hours?” he cries, his thick brogue echoing. “Ye must be jesting, woman.” 

“Absolutely not,” she says firmly. “If you want this little one to have a cousin then we have a wedding to get in order. Go!” She shoos him off. With another quick pat of her stomach, he jumps away before she can swat him again, grinning like a madman. “I swear if I’d known that he’d be like this…”

Rosalie and Claire fuss with your hair and dress, making sure everything is just so. Rosalie gives her sister that trademark Rutherford lopsided grin. “You’d what? Not have married him? Not have slept with him?” 

“Oh, Maker no. I would have done all of that.” Mia laughs, caressing her bump lovingly. “I would have worn something baggier today. That man’s attention should be elsewhere. This is _not_ our day.” 

“I don’t care, you look beautiful,” you blurt, making all three women look up at you. “I mean… I don’t think you’re stealing attention. I’m happy you have so much happiness to bring to my wedding day and I’m sure Cullen feels the same.” 

You can see tears gathering as the usually stoic Mia’s lower lip starts to quiver. She quickly brushes them away, muttering something about hormones. When you all laugh, you feel so at ease in this family. Like you belong. 

Before you know it, Mia is pushing your small, but elegant, wildflower bouquet into your hands. There are rumors going around that Cullen picked them himself for Mia to arrange and that he’s gotten a fair amount of friendly ribbing for it. 

When you meet Cullen’s gaze on your journey down the aisle, the world falls away and the butterflies in your stomach still. Riding the wave of tense exhilaration, you watch with a giddy smile as Andy trots forward, bearing your rings. 

You thought you’d be nervous to speak in front of all of these people, but the truth is you don’t even notice them. You’re glued to those amber eyes that promise far more to you than his vows, which are eloquent and absolutely perfect. Your voice warbles with emotion as you try to get out your vows without devolving into a sobbing mess of happiness. Cullen smoothly slips the ring onto your finger, nestling it against the beautiful engagement ring you’re already wearing. Your hand trembles as you slide the other ring onto his, but once you do, he takes both of your hands between his own and squeezes. 

“You may now kiss your bride.” The words come out of nowhere, but you instinctively know what to do. You frame Cullen’s face in your hands, raise yourself on your tiptoes and kiss him like you’ve never kissed him before. And _Maker_ , he does the same until you’re both breathless but unwilling to break away. 

From behind you, sitting with your bridesmaids, Andy barks impatiently. The entire crowd watching your nuptials erupts into laughter, as do you and your husband. He nuzzles your nose with his and grins. “Shall we celebrate now, wife?” 

“Absolutely,” you say breathlessly, “as long as we still have enough energy for our wedding night.” 

“That won’t be a problem.” He kisses you again before taking your hand and walking you out between the crowd of people on their feet and cheering for you. 

You relish in the happiness both inside of you and around you. Rylen’s enthusiastic reunion with his wife and her bump. Rosalie and Claire are clearly in love and taking advantage of the atmosphere of your wedding the way you had with Cullen at Mia’s. Bran even shows more interest than usual with the date that he brought. Still beautiful, but distinctly different from the other women you’ve seen him with so far and you’ve seen her more than once.

The toasts, the delectable cake, the first-or rather second-dance. You hope people are taking plenty of pictures because all you can focus on is Cullen. Everything else is a blur around you. 

After a particularly robust dance number amidst a crowd of small children who love the twirl of your dress, you try to find Cullen but can’t spot him so you seek out water on your own. An understanding bartender hands you an ice-cold bottle and lets you use his side room to sit for a minute. 

You almost scream and spill water all over yourself when you feel Cullen’s hands on your hips, body warm against your back as his breath tickles your ear. “Shall we retire?” You can’t even be mad at him. You don’t know how, but he found you and he was thinking the same thing you were. 

“Do you think anyone will notice we’ve gone for the night?” you ask, handing him the water which he greedily drinks. You’re both going to need the hydration for what's to come. 

“Absolutely, and they’ll all approve.” You laugh even as you feel your cheeks flush. He grins, setting aside the bottle to take your hand. 

With expert maneuvering and clear determination, he guides you both out of the reception. You’d made the joint decision to stay the night in one of Mia and Rylen’s guest rooms, giving you both time to rest before the morning flight to Rivain for the honeymoon. Cullen leads you up the stairs, his face a mask of calm. The tornado beneath peels off him in waves, sending tingles of electric anticipation up your spine. Though he’d already had you once today, you sense that quickie will be nothing compared to whatever he has in store now. 

Upon reaching the blessedly empty hallway, Cullen pivots on his heel. Before you can so much as gasp, your back is to the wall. Pinned by the powerful lines of his body, his forearms on either side of your head, his mouth is hot and wet as it travels from shoulder to neck. His lips meet yours, all teeth and tongues. The hard press of him against your hip and friction of his thigh slotted between your legs leaves you flushed, breathless, begging. 

Nails claw down his arms and back in your desperate bid to shed the layers between you when he suddenly steps away. Knees nearly buckling, you stumble from the wall with a needy whimper, clutching the front of his shirt as you attempt to pull him back in. He shakes his head, his own breath heavy, desperation shining behind his stoic facade. 

“Need you,” you whisper. “Cullen, please.”

With one smooth, graceful motion, he bends and laces an arm beneath your arse and scoops you up and over his shoulder. An indignant, entirely unladylike, “Oomph,” bursts from your chest and if you weren’t so damn turned on by it, you’d protest being carried like a sack of potatoes. As it is, though, you’re impossibly horny and won’t allow your pride to ruin the moment. Instead, you take the opportunity to watch his bottom flex below you as Cullen turns and marches down the hall. 

The minute the door clicks shut behind you, your hand lashes out and delivers a swift, loud “thwack!” to one cheek. He chuckles, tossing you down onto the bed. “Really?” he says with a smirk.

You grin cheekily. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Naughty woman.” Straddling you, Cullen lavishes hungry kisses across your collarbone and down your still-clothed chest. He sits up on his knees, grabs and flips you onto your stomach before you can protest. The zipper of your dress flies down, his lips and tongue following the path of skin it unveils. “My wife. _Mine_ ,” he growls possessively. Within moments, he’s stripped you bare, save for your panties. Leaning over you again, his lips hover at the shell of your ear. “Say it.”

Shivers run down your spine, goosebumps prickling the flesh of your arms. “Yours.” He rewards you with one long finger over your slit, gentle and teasing. You arch into the touch with a high whine.

“Always so good for me.” His heat leaves your back as he slides down the length of you and yanks you to the edge of the bed, legs splayed and arse presented. “So perfect,” he whispers, hot breath fanning over the cooling wetness beneath the cloth. 

He pulls the fabric down over your flesh, achingly slowly, and presses a kiss between your legs. Rotating between long, flat strokes and rapid kitten licks, it doesn’t take long to leave you a trembling, sweating, pleading mess. “Please!” you cry. “Need you - need to see you.”

Tenderly, he turns you over and sits you up. You pull him in for a sweet, passionate kiss. His tongue teases across your lower lip and you grant him entry, tasting yourself, his claim on you. 

_Husband._

_My husband._

It’s surreal, knowing that for the first time, you’ll do this with vows set down between you. Committed. Yours forever. Tears prickle at the edges of your eyes, vision swimming as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt. He tries to pull away and do it himself, but you swat his hands. “I want to,” you whisper, voice breaking.

A rough yet gentle palm cups your cheek, the other carding through your hair as he gazes lovingly down to watch you free him from the confines of his suit. Once undressed, you expect him to climb over you again. Instead, he moves to the center of the bed, sitting cross-legged, and pulls you into his lap. He holds himself as you sink down, face buried in the crook of his shoulder as he stretches and fills you. For a long moment, you cling to each other, all sweat-slicked skin and tangled limbs and unshed tears. Slowly, ever so slowly, you begin to rock in unison.

Something tugs beneath your ribs, fire blooming outward from your center and down to your limbs. Overwhelmed, you sob your pleasure into the salt of his skin, fingers curling into his hair as you lazily grind against him. So in tune to your needs, he senses your pleasure-fogged exhaustion and takes over. Fingers gripping your hips, his thighs flex as he bounces you on his lap, each thrust shallow but no less powerful for how deep the position takes him. 

He praises all the while, worshipping at your altar with each utterance. “So good… so beautiful… mine…” quickly devolves into desperate grunts and moans as you both near your end.

You palm his jaw, kiss him deeply, and plead, “Come with me, my love.”

Holding you close, he delivers a few more short thrusts and just as you muffle your cry of release into a harsh nip at the crux of shoulder and neck he tips over the edge, filling you with his warmth. 

It takes several more minutes to gather enough breath for a whispered, “I love you, husband.”

He sighs, laying down and drawing you with him. “I love you too, wife.” He gently maneuvers the duvet from under you both and pulls it up to your shoulders as you nestle against his chest, one leg threaded between his, ankles tangled and an arm around his waist. The mess can wait. Right now, all that matters is this blessed moment, the synchronous rise and fall of his chest and yours as the world blissfully wavers. He tucks his chin, pressing a gentle kiss upon your crown just as you slip into the Fade.

Together. _Forever..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We want to send out a heartfelt thanks to all of our readers and supporters. It's been a wild ride, and we could not have done it without you. This journey has not only brought us closer as a group, and as friends, but has also lifted our spirits during these troubling times. And we hope, most sincerely, it has done the same for all of you. 
> 
> Thank you all so, so much. Stay safe, stay healthy, and know our thoughts are with you. 
> 
> With love,
> 
> Kitti, Charlie, Jacks, & Kemvee  
> a.k.a The Smut Coven
> 
> _P.S._
> 
>  _Stay tuned for a very special Epilogue next week!_ ^_^


	19. Epilogue

The entire drive to the cabin is nearly silent. But it’s the comfortable silence of two people who don’t need to speak to say volumes. The trees grow thicker as you leave the city behind and Cullen rolls down the windows so that you can both get some fresh air. His fingers are threaded between yours and you keep staring at him, happily getting caught over and over. 

“You seem particularly-” he pauses, trying to find the word he wants, “happy, today.” 

“We’ve been married for a whole year. I don’t think “happy” covers it. I still look at you and can’t believe you’re my husband.” You swallow the emotion in your throat. 

He chuckles and you can tell he’d rather keep his eyes on you than the road. Plenty of time for that during your week at the cabin. He helps you carry in the groceries and bags, though he insists on taking the heaviest of both. You begin pulling out the items that need to stay cold so he can put them away. Handing him a bottle, he glances at the label. His brows furrow slightly. 

“I think you grabbed the wrong thing at the store, love.” He turns the label toward you. “You bought sparkling cider.” 

You bite your lip. You didn’t know how you were going to tell him, just that the right time would present itself. And, it is present. “I bought that on purpose. I can’t drink champagne.” 

“Why not?” He sets the bottle down and looks over the island at you. You’ve both had it together before so he knows you enjoy it. 

You pull a thick piece of glossy paper from the back pocket of your jeans and hand it to him. “This is why.” 

Confused, he unfolds the paper and examines it carefully. You can see your name at the top with “Rutherford.” You still get butterflies in your stomach when you read your own new name. His eyes glance up at you, then back down to the paper. It’s a black and gray mess, but there are two arrows pointing out small curled specs labeled “Baby A” and “Baby B”. 

“Is this?” He looks up at you and you can see tears in his eyes as you nod, feeling them swell in your own. “A and B,” he whispers under his breath, struggling in his surprise to understand what he sees. “Babies. _Two_ babies. You’re pregnant?” He looks back down. “With two babies. You’re having two babies? _We’re_ having two babies?” 

You laugh aloud at his repeated words of awe. “Two babies,” you confirm, nodding. “Or, twins, as they’re commonly known. You did say, a year ago exactly, and I quote: I’m going to put so many babies in you.” 

He whispers your name, looking up at you again. He sets the sonogram picture down and plants his hands on the island. With no care for the groceries on it, he jumps over it to grab you and haul you against him. He kisses you breathless and by the time he pulls away, tears are streaming down your cheeks. You aren’t sure if the wetness on his cheek is from your tears, the kiss, or his own. 

His hand cups your cheek and he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “I-you-we- _Maker’s breath_ ,” he stutters out before kissing you again, deciding he hasn’t found his voice yet. 

He grabs your hips and spins to sit you on the island, settling between your legs before he pulls away again. “I love you.” It seems to be all he can get out. You slide your fingers through his hair and smile at him. 

“I love you too, Cullen. You’re going to be such a wonderful father.” Your voice shakes and you hold back a sob. 

“I hope so,” he whispers, kissing you again gently. After a moment, he leans down and tugs the flannel shirt from your pants, lifting it so that he can rest his forehead on your bare stomach. You hear him speaking, but can’t make out the words.

“Cullen?” You smile down at him. 

He glances up at you, amber eyes shining. “Shh, I’m talking to my children.” His chastisement is playful. 

“Oh, of course. Sorry to bother you.” You tease back. “Please, continue.” 

He continues to murmur softly, then lays a lingering kiss on your skin. He stands again and kisses you, surprising you with the fierceness. “I love you,” he says against your lips, hands squeezing your hips. “ _So much._ ” 

“I love you too,” you whisper, nuzzling his nose with your own. “Well, since I can’t get any more pregnant than I already am…” you leave off suggestively. 

His hands slide beneath the swell of your ass and he lifts you off the island. “Of course, Mrs. Rutherford. Anything for the mother of my children.” 

He carries you into the bedroom, whispering sweet nothings and delectable promises into your ear. With finality, he kicks the door closed, locking out Andy to keep you all to himself. 

~

“I need you.” You moan shamelessly as he presses kisses against your shoulder, his hard length grinding urgently against your ass. 

What was a small goodnight snuggle had quickly turned heated as Cullen’s wandering hands had awakened your passions. His body molded to the back of yours as he first explored the curves of your swollen breasts, he had been relishing their heaviness during the pregnancy.

“I know my love but your bump...” he says with reluctance. It was too big now for missionary and for all your time in the gym your stamina was still inadequate for you to be on top, or supporting yourself doggy style for long. 

“Please.” You beg as his fingers start to circle your clit, your nightdress having long ridden up your thighs in Cullen’s pursuit of your naked skin.

He groans behind you and you feel him shift and pull aside his own covering. 

His strong hand guides your thigh up and over his and he lines his tip with your entrance.

“Are you sure?” he asks with a few tentative rolls of his hips against your slit, coating himself in your slick and causing you to wantonly moan.

“Yes!” You cry and not a second later Cullen’s hips surge forward. His thick cock fills you, stretching you from behind while you both lay on your sides. He waits, ever the considerate lover for your body to adjust to his girth. The whole time touching, caressing, and waiting for your involuntary signal. You buck back against him and with a guttural hiss, he begins to move within you. 

Your arm bends to grip at his disheveled curls as he takes you. Deep slow strokes that fill you so thoroughly while with his talented fingers he stimulates your pearl in perfect harmony. And he is soft and loving and gentle as he makes love to you. Chanting your name, praising you and your beauty as your end approaches despite his torturous pace.

You pant with lust and frustration as he maintains his steady pace, fucking you with exquisite control and skill. Till it is too much. “Cullen yes! YES!” You cry as you shatter in his arms. Your vision whiting and body going near rigid as the bliss of your orgasm overtakes you. His hand abandons your pearl to grip almost painfully at your thigh and finally his control snaps. Hard driving thrusts slam into your still twitching cunt, over-sensitized you writhe in his arms but he holds you fast and firm. His teeth grazing your neck to muffle his moan as he spills inside you.

“Oh Maker.” You sigh, turning in his arms to kiss him lovingly. “I swear if I wasn’t already pregnant that would have done it.”

Cullen just laughs and pulls you back close to him, sleep coming quickly for you both.

~

You moan contentedly as Cullen's gifted hands gently caress your aching, swollen feet, shoveling yet another spoonful of ice cream into your ravenous mouth. You’re still a month from your due date, but are so ready for the pregnancy to be over. Not least of all because you’re almost large enough to have your own gravitational pull. 

"Can I get you anything else?" Cullen asks, for possibly the hundredth time. 

Since you’d had a telling off by the midwife at your last check-up for overexerting yourself, Cullen had insisted you immediately start your maternity leave and was doing everything within his power to ensure you were relaxed at all times. He’d even, rather disappointingly, deemed sex too strenuous an activity in which to partake. His behavior was both adorable and infuriating. 

"I'm not an invalid," you argue, "you don't have to do everything for me."

"I know, but I want to," he answers calmly, "you've been growing two people inside of you for the past eight months, the least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable."

You try to sit up, rather unsuccessfully, laughing at the pathetic attempt as you slump back down onto the couch. "Come here." You pout, extending your arms in invitation.

Cullen takes the tub of ice cream from your hand and places it on the coffee table, then leans over you to press a kiss to your lips. He's so careful not to put any pressure on the gargantuan bump between you, aside from the gentle caress of his warm palm.

You hold his gaze as he pulls away from the kiss, forever mesmerized by the unusual gold-amber of his irises and their ability to make you throb in places longing for his touch. “I read something interesting the other day,” you say, the picture of innocence, “apparently, having an orgasm has been known to initiate labor.”

Cullen tries to hide his smirk before responding with a resolute, “No.”

You whine in protest, frowning like a spoiled princess. “Cullen, _please_ have sex with me.”

“Our children will come when they’re ready,” he attempts to reason, as though logic will have any effect on your suddenly lust-addled brain. 

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” you sultrily whisper, slowly separating your thighs. You decide not to add that it’s only due to the physical impossibility of being able to put your knickers on without assistance.

“Love…” he attempts to warn, though it comes out as more of a sigh as he watches you pull the skirt of your dress higher up your thighs.

“Touch me,” you softly plead, “please.”

Cullen swallows thickly, hesitating for just the briefest of moments before allowing the palm on your knee to slide down the length of your inner thigh. Your wetness is audible as he gently parts your folds and caresses your clit. You’d heard pregnancy was just as likely to lessen your libido as boost it, but if the heavenly sigh that escapes your lips is any indication, the latter was most definitely true for you. You bite your lip and whimper when he slips two fingers inside you, curling them upwards as his thumb stimulates your pearl. Cullen takes you all the way to the edge: breathing heavily, hips unconsciously moving to meet the press of his clever digits… and abruptly leaves you there.

“Why did you stop!” you complain, suddenly furious at being denied so close to nearing your end.

“Um…” Cullen hesitates, “I think your waters just broke.”

“Really?” you ask in disbelief, “I didn’t feel any-ow-ow-OW!” You’re words morph into a cry of pain as your first contraction hits you.

“Oh Maker,” Cullen startles, eyes wide with terror, “you’re not due for another month!”

You breathe slowly in through your nose and blow out a long shaky breath. “Well, they did tell us twins were often impatient.”

Andy gives a few clipped barks from across the room as if to say _get it together,_ and after a couple of deep breaths, Cullen banishes his nerves and assumes control. “Okay. Everythings fine. We’ve prepared for this.” He takes your hands to help you stand then ever so gently kisses you. “I love you,” he whispers, thumbs caressing your cheek and stomach with equal adoration.

You smile brightly. “I love you, too-oo-oo!” but your words are cut short as you are seized by another contraction. You wrap your fingers around Cullen’s arms and _squeeze_ as he attempts to guide your breathing until the pain subsides.

“Cullen, I’m not sure it’s supposed to happen this quickly,” you worry. Both of you have read so many books and attended all your antenatal classes together and were lead to believe that labor was a long, slow process. And yet here you are already having regular contractions.

“Don’t worry.” His calm voice immediately reassures you. “Can you walk?”

You nod, still breathing deeply in preparation for the next inevitable wave of pain as Cullen guides you to the door. He grabs his car keys and your pre-packed hospital bag, tells Andy if you’re not home soon Bran will come to take care of her, and before you know it you’re on the road.

Cullen gets you to the hospital in record time - you know this because you’ve practiced - and as with everything else in your idyllic life with this practically perfect man, labor progresses without incident and before the day is even over you’re home again; no longer a family of three but five.

You stand back-to-back, each of you staring into the bassinet of a snoozing baby. You’re currently looking at your son, whose trademark blond curls so clearly mark him as a Rutherford. “He looks so much like you,” you whisper, an opinion you’ve voiced at least twelve times already.

“Switch?” Cullen suggests.

You chuckle softly as you swap posts, not for the first time. You just can't seem to get enough of them, silent observers save for a few adoring comments. 

You take a deep breath as you look at your daughter, almost completely overwhelmed by the love that you feel for her and her brother. “She looks like Rose,” you note fondly, peaking up at the framed family photo. 

“No,” he whispers, startling you slightly as his arms encircle your waist, “she’s all you.”

You lean back against him as you stand in contented silence, recalling your first encounter and how beyond amazed you are that it led to such perfection.

“Thank you,” he whispers, gracing your bare shoulder with a soft kiss. 

“For what?” you ask, turning in his arms to face him.

He smiles warmly, cradling your cheek with his palm. “For loving me; for wanting to be a part of my family; for giving me the two most perfect children to have ever lived.” He wipes a tear from your cheek, kisses the tip of your nose then whispers against your lips, “but mostly just for being you.”

~

The sunlight flicks gently across your face. Speckled rays that filter through the leaves of the tree you had chosen to take a rest beneath. It is quiet here, with little more than the rustling of the breeze, a few birds chirping, and the giggles of your children playing a little way away. The peace and tranquility gives you space to reflect on what is your ten year anniversary.

Back then, when you first met, you didn't believe soulmates were a thing. They were a romanticized ideal made for the media or romance novels. And if anyone had told you that taking _that_ risk in the showers would have led to a decade of bliss, given you a family you adore, and the chance to wake up every day to the love of your life... Well, what else could it be but the bond of soulmates.

Your best friend and the love of your life in one person who is nothing less than perfection in your eyes.

“Cullen!” she calls, and you reluctantly open your sleep-fogged eyes. “There you are.” She stands over you, peering down with a warm radiant smile that has been your solace these past ten years. “Come on sleepy head, you promised the children ice cream.”

“Mmmm, I’m not sure I can move.” You stretch out languidly like a lion. She laughs and reaches down to offer her hands to you.

“Come on up,” she says, linking your hands together. She tries using her weight to leverage you to your feet.

With a devilish smirk, you tug and she tumbles forward into your arms. Her little shriek of surprise masked by your muffled laughter as she wriggles within the confines of your iron-banded arms around her.

“Oh, you brute!” She laughs as you roll her beneath you, pinning her with your weight and a heated stare. It’s a look she knows only too well and she whimpers as you bring your lips to hers in a tender but hungry kiss.

“How are you still so insatiable?” she asks breathlessly, a telling flush on her cheeks. “I thought you would have gotten bored of me by now.”

“Never,” you say with a sigh before claiming her lips again. “You are now, as you were back then and as you will always be, the most exquisite woman in existence.”

She hums at the compliment. “And you are, as you were back then and as you will always be, the biggest dork I have ever met!” She laughs at your shocked face, her hand rising up to cup at your stubbled cheek. “And I love you, you silly sexy man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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